Shrink or Swim
by chill13
Summary: After being shot by a strange device that washed up in the lagoon Gilligan begins to shrink. Can the Professor find a way to reverse the process before the first mate shrinks out of existence? And can Gilligan survive being four inches tall?
1. Lost and Found

**Shrink or Swim **

_**Lost and Found**_

Beneath a deceptively abandoned warehouse lies the top- secret headquarters of KAOS, the 'international organization of evil'. It's goal: world domination. Somewhere inside it's labyrinthian passageways a voice echoed.

"Well?!" The fat man's fist pounded on the desktop. The shockwave sent the pencil cup toppling over, sending it's contents rolling in all directions. The two men in front of the desk jumped slightly at the sudden outburst. "Where is it, Segfreid?" The huge man demanded.

The smaller of the two men stepped forward. A blond moustache covered his upper lip and a small scar adorned his left cheek. His German decent revealed itself plainly as he spoke.

"There vas a storm during transport. Ze device vashed overboard. Ze homing beacon indicates..."

"Do you realize how important that device is to KAOS?" The large man behind the desk rose threateningly. "It will revolutionize our smuggling operations. It will make us millions! And the more money we have the easier to take over the world, yes?" Before either had a chance to answer he continued, his voice menacing. "You were in charge of transport arrangements."

Segfried mentally flinched. He knew KAOS's punishment for inefficiency and it wasn't pleasant. But he was the Vice President of Public Relations and Terrorism. Perhaps he could pass the blame.

"Yas, Sir. But..."

"No 'buts'!" the man roared. "You were in charge. The loss is your fault."

Segfried swallowed hard and allowed himself a glance to Starker. His subordinate and lackey was staring straight ahead as he stood at attention. It seemed even his dense brain understood the seriousness of their predicament.

The heavy man behind the desk sat back, opened his cigar box and looked over its contents casually. He finally picked one, lit it and took a few leisurely puffs. He seemed to be enjoying the tension he had caused.

"It's your fault," he began again. "So you will be the ones to retrieve it."

Both men let out a sigh of relief.

"You will fly to Hawaii, then proceed by boat to the location of the device."

"By boat?" Starker spoke for the first time. "Vhy can't ve use a plane?" He whined. "I get seasick."

"Idiots!" He leapt out of his chair with a swiftness of a man half his size and pounded the desk again. "An airplane would be picked up on radar." He took a few more puffs of his cigar and settled down again. "Make arrangements immediately." The big man made a small shooing motion with his hands, sending cigar ash floating down to the desk. "Now get out of my office."

Segfried was not happy as they marched down the long corridor, their boots clicking crisply on the tiled floor. He mumbled fiercely under his breath.

"Vhat's wrong, Segfried?" The taller man asked. "You look...angry."

"Really? Vhat tipped you off?" He spat sarcastically.

"Vell," He paused as if thinking the question over. "Your eyes get all big, and funny little creases appear on your forehead."

Segfried tried to ignore the stupid answer and answered the original question. "Dumkoff! It vill take us days to get there, secure ze device and get back."

Starker shrugged his large shoulders. "Ja, so?"

"Tomorrow is the Annual KAOS Barbecue!"

"Oh." Disappointment touched Starter's deep-set, chronically confused eyes. But he brightened quickly. "But ve get to go to Hawaii! I've alvays wanted to learn the Hula."

The large man began humming 'Aloha O'e' and waving his arms in a rather pathetic impression of the dance.

Segfried rolled his eyes and gave his comrade a hard slap upside the head. "Dumkoff! Zis is KAOS. Ve don't Hula here!" After a second thought he added, "Polka, yes. Hula, no."

Meanwhile, on a small peaceful island in the South Pacific...

_7:00 AM day 1_

"I got a bite! Oh, boy!" Gilligan gave his fishing pole a hard yank to set the hook. The pole bent nearly in half as he dug his heels into the sand. "I think I caught a whale!" Whatever he had caught was putting up a good fight. Finally, with great effort, he hauled a seaweed-covered object onto the beach.

"A box!" One of the reasons he loved fishing was that he never knew what he was going to catch. More interesting stuff came out of the lagoon than even his wild imagination could ever dream of. Granted, some things had been less than beneficial, like the WW2 mine, the exploding plastic, and radioactive seeds. But many great things had come out of the lagoon too; a lion, a magician's trunk, a video camera and costumes, a jetpack, and of course, plenty of fish.

He found a suitable rock, pried open the lid and tossed it aside. With great anticipation he peered inside. His jaw dropped. "Wow," he muttered. "Skipper!" He leapt up and bounded off in the direction of camp.

"Skipper!" Gilligan shouted as he burst through the jungle foliage into the clearing.

"Don't bother me, Gilligan. Can't you see I'm busy?" The captain didn't even look up from where he was patching the wall of their hut.

"But, Skipper, I caught something."

"Good for you." The captain's voice was considerably less than ecstatic.

"You gotta come see."

"Quit pestering me, Gilligan. Bring it up here, clean it, fillet it, and give it to the girls to cook for lunch."

Gilligan shook his head. "Uh...not this."

The Skipper was beginning to get flustered. "Whatever it is, just bring it back to camp!"

The first mate gave a small shrug. "It's pretty big, Skipper. I don't think I can carry it."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" He shoved the hammer in his pocket with an irritated grunt and followed the excited young man into the jungle.

"All right, Gilligan. What's so important that..." He saw the box and at once his eyes rolled heavenward and he heaved a short irritated sigh. "Is that all? Another box of junk?"

"I don't think its junk, Skipper." Gilligan said, nearly dragging the captain across the beach toward his unusual catch.

"What is it then?"

"I don't know. But I don't think its junk. See?"

The Skipper's eyes widened as they reached the crate and he got a good look at what was inside.

"What is it, Skipper?"

"It looks like some sort of machine. Let's take it to the Professor. He'll know what it is."

_7:15 AM_

"I have no idea what it is." The Professor stared hard at the strange device now standing in the supply hut. It was four and a half feet of metal, wires, knobs and buttons. But the most unusual feature was the glasslike cylinder that topped the strange contraption. It was about as big around as the Skipper's arm with tiny silver wires running the entire length.

"I think it's an alien laser gun." Gilligan concluded. "Just like in the adventures of X-Ray Man!" Using his thumb and forefinger as an imaginary weapon he began firing on various objects. "Tseew! Tseew! Boom, POW!"

"Will you knock that off!"

A whack over the head from the Skipper's hat brought the first mate out of his little game.

"'Alien laser gun'. Hmph! That's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

The Professor shrugged. "You never know. Gilligan's guess is as good as mine."

The Skipper's jaw dropped. "You mean this _could_ be an alien laser gun?" Had their intelligent friend gone island-happy?

"Well, not the alien part obviously. I seriously doubt that extraterrestrials would utilize oak crates for transport or pack their valuables with Honolulu newspapers."

The captain breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't know what he would have done if the Professor had gone nuts.

"But it could very well be a weapon of some sort."

"Like a laser gun?" Gilligan asked hopefully.

The Professor smiled. "Perhaps."

"Oh, boy!"

"Please, Professor." The Skipper implored. "Don't get him more wound up than he already is."

"There's good reason to be excited, Skipper."

"Of course there is! A real, live laser gun. Wow!"

"It's not alive, Gilligan. And that's not what he means. Er...What do you mean, Professor?"

"I mean this object, whatever it is," he put a hand on the glass cylinder, "will be the key to our liberation."

"This thing?" The Skipper pushed back his hat to scratch his head. "But I thought you don't know what it is."

"I don't. But you see this little box here?" The Professor pointed to a small square protrusion with a solitary blinking light. "That's a homing beacon. It emits a signal that the owner can home in on. They could be en route here this very minute!"

The Skipper could barely contain his excitement. "Are you sure, Professor? I mean are you sure they'll come looking for it?"

"Well, I can't be 100% certain. But simply the fact that it has such a feature as a homing device insists that it is of utmost importance. It appears to be highly sophisticated and probably quite expensive. I doubt the owner would not even make an effort to recover it."

"Oh, boy." Gilligan turned excitedly and bolted from the hut. "Hey, everybody! We're going to be rescued! We're going to be rescued!"

_Yes, there is a bit of a crossover to Get Smart (the show not the movie). But since I just needed some good bad guys (oxymoron) and they're not an integral part of the story I didn't feel it necessary to put it in the crossover section. _


	2. Shot

**2.**_** Shot**_

_7:30 AM day 1_

"I get everybody rescued and what do they do? Is it: 'thank you, Gilligan', or 'good work, Gilligan'? Oh noo. It's: 'Gilligan, get this', 'Gilligan, pack that', 'hurry up, Gilligan'" The first mate grumbled to himself as he neared the supply hut.

The Professor had explained to everyone that it might take as long as a week for the owner of the device to follow its signal to the island. But packing for departure had began immediately, as it always did when a rescue was announced. Gilligan didn't understand how everyone could make packing such an ordeal. He just shoved his clothes in his duffle bag and he was done. But apparently it wasn't that easy for the others. There seemed to be no end to the preparation. Of course there was a lot of fetching to be done. Everyone seemed to be missing something or other they couldn't live without. And since Gilligan had finished his packing already he was the perfect candidate to draft into retrieval work. It seemed that no sooner did he deliver one item then he was sent for something else. He had already been down to the lagoon twice, once for the Skipper's toolbox and again to pick up the fishing net. Mr. Howell had sent him to the supply hut to get his extra suitcases. He had been to the far side of the island to retrieve an odd conglomeration of bamboo, coconuts and wires the Professor was using to study the volcano. Mrs. Howell's fan, Mary Ann's wooden spoon; it felt like he had been over every inch of the island looking for things that weren't his.

Now he was back in the supply hut again for Ginger's costume trunk. As he entered he couldn't help but stop and consider the strange device that was going to rescue them all. It took major self-control to keep his curious fingers from flipping a switch of pressing one of the many colorful buttons. But the Professor had given everyone strict orders not to touch it lest they accidentally deactivate the homing beacon. Gilligan knew that speech was meant mostly for him. So, against all his youthful curiosity he left it alone.

"Let's see, Ginger's costumes gotta be in here somewhere." He scanned all the crates and boxes stacked haphazardly around the hut. "Oh, there it is." The end of a blue trunk peeked out from beneath a precarious looking pile of boxes.

He reached down and took a hold of the trunk's leather handle and pulled. It barely budged. With a frown of determination he braced his feet as best he could and put his back into it. Inch by inch it began to slide out. One last yank and it finally pulled free.

Gilligan's jaw dropped as he helplessly watched the stack of crates, deprived of the support of the trunk, topple over in an avalanche of wooden cubes. One of the tumbling boxes slammed against the side of the machine upsetting innumerous buttons and switches. An angry hum rose to fill the hut as the strange device seemed to come to life.

"Uh, oh." The first mate knew exactly what that sound meant. The laser was warming up. It could shoot any second and there would be nothing left of him but a pile of ashes. His mind was screaming at him to run but his feet were glued to the sand and his eyes entranced by the streaks of colored light that were dancing along the length of the glass rod.

The Skipper whistled happily to himself as he headed toward the supply hut. He could hardly believe they were finally going to be rescued. It seemed too good to be true.

He paused as he neared the hut. A strange rising hum emanated from the crude building. He could see Gilligan through the window. His first mate appeared to be frozen stiff, his eyes fixed straight ahead. The Skipper frowned. What was he up to now?

Before he could so much as take another step a thin beam of blinding light shot out of nowhere hitting Gilligan square in the chest. Colored tendrils of electricity spread out from the beam and wrapped around him, dancing like lightning up and down his body. He let out a small, strangled yelp, swatting madly at the light swirling around him as if it was a swarm of killer bees, then fell backwards out of the Skipper's sight.

"Gilligan!" He was sure now that Gilligan was right. The strange machine was a laser. He threw open the hut door, his heart in his throat, terrified at what he would find. The light show had vanished and the machine was now silent. Gilligan lay on his back in the sand and for one horrible instant he was sure he had lost his Little Buddy.

Gilligan suddenly bolted upright, his eyes wide and frightened and his face drained of color. His hair was sticking out at all angles like he had stuck his finger in a light socket. "It shot me, Skipper! It shot me! Did I die? Am I dead?" Gilligan stared down at his chest, where the beam had made contact. He ran his hands franticly over the spot as if he expected to find a gaping hole there.

"Are you alright?" The Skipper was nearly beside himself. He kneeled next to his first mate, looking him over from head to toe, searching him for some kind of injury. As he put a hand on Gilligan's shoulder there was a small 'zap' as the contact gave him a slight shock. But he barely noticed. "Did it hurt you? What happened?"

"Oh, Skipper it was awful!" Gilligan's narrative was an incomprehensible jumble of half sentences, sound effects and wild gestures all at top speed.

The Skipper shook his head, frustrated and worried. He should have known better than expect an intelligible explanation from Gilligan when he was excited. He grabbed Gilligan by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, Little Buddy. I'm taking you to the Professor."

_7:40 AM day 1_

"It looked like lightning, you say?" The Professor asked as he pulled a thermometer from the first mate's mouth.

"But it was all different colors." Gilligan said from where he sat, half naked, on the table. He was much calmer now, if a little embarrassed.

"Very odd." The Professor shook his head thoughtfully. "What did it feel like?"

Gilligan's eyebrows came together in a contemplative frown. "You know when you sit funny for a long time and your leg falls asleep?"

The Professor nodded.

"It was like that only all over." He shuddered slightly at the memory.

"It didn't hurt at all?"

"Not really. But it sure was creepy."

"I can imagine." The Professor said as he shined the flashlight into Gilligan's eyes. After doing a few more tests he put all his instruments away.

"Well?" The Skipper asked. He had been pacing anxiously throughout the entire examination.

The Professor shrugged. "He appears perfectly normal. There are no changes I can detect."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"As far as I can tell there was no effect at all. His temperature is normal. His blood pressure is normal. His reflexes are normal." He motioned to Gilligan's bare chest. "There are no burn marks where the beam made contact."

"That's a relief!" The Skipper finally relaxed. He clamped a hand on the young man's pale shoulder. "You hear that, Little Buddy? It didn't do anything!"

"Yeah," Gilligan sounded slightly disappointed. "I guess it's not a laser."

The Professor gave the first mate a wry smile. "You better be glad it wasn't or your atoms would be scattered all over the island by now."

"Oh...heh....right." He swallowed hard as that image impressed itself on his mind.

Mary Ann's head peeked in the door. "Hey, Professor, I was wondering..."

Gilligan gasped, leapt off the table and bolted behind the Skipper. "Don't girls know how to knock?" He asked indignantly, peeking around the captain's large frame.

Mary Ann's eyes widened slightly, not quite sure what she had done wrong.

"What is wrong with you?!" The Skipper asked irritably

"I don't have my shirt on!" He stabbed a finger toward the other side of the room where his red shirt was draped over the back of a chair.

The Skipper's eyes rolled heavenward. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Gilligan!"

"Here." The Professor tossed the shirt in Gilligan's direction.

It was the Skipper who caught it. With a swift movement he pulled it just out of his first mate's reach. "You are as shy as a schoolgirl on the beach!" He let out a big booming laugh that nearly shook the hut.

"It's not funny, Skipper!" He made a wild grab but the Skipper pulled it away.

"What's the matter, Little Buddy? Afraid she's going to see this little patch of hair?" He gave Gilligan's chest a playful poke.

Gilligan's ears turned a deep shade of red and his hand shot up instantly to hide aforementioned hair. "Please," His eyes flicked toward Mary Ann without actually looking at her, then back at the Skipper with a look of betrayal, complete humiliation and indignation. The latter rather unusual for the amiable first mate "Just give me my shirt."

"Oh, come on, Gilligan. Don't look at me that way." He handed the article in question back to the Gilligan, who donned it hastily. "What's the fun in having a little buddy if I can't tease him now and then." He grabbed the brim of Gilligan's hat and pulled it down over his eyes. When Gilligan pushed his hat back up he was smiling. He never could stay mad for long, especially at his best buddy.

The Professor finally turned to the young farm girl, still framed in the doorway. "What did you want, Mary Ann?"

"Huh? Oh, I was wondering if you had any dirty clothes. I was going to do the laundry after breakfast." She dismissed that subject with a wave of her hand. Something else had become much more important. "What's going on?" Mary Ann's voice had a note of concern as she addressed the three men but the Professor in particular. "Why do you have your medical bag out?"

"Gilligan had a little run in with that machine. It seems to have shot him with some kind of beam." The Professor explained as he closed his bag and put it back on the shelf.

"Shot him!" Mary Ann's eyes widened and she turned frantically to Gilligan who was just stepping out from behind the Skipper, his upper half now covered to his satisfaction. "Are you alright?"

"I guess so." He said with a small shrug. "The Professor said I'm fine. What's for breakfast?"

"Tuna and lobster casserole."

"Oh, boy! Can we have breakfast now?"

She laughed at the unintentional complement. "No. It's not finished yet."

"If I help will it be finished faster?" He said as he began to follow her out the door.

The Professor held up a warning hand. "Gilligan."

The first mate turned. "Huh?"

"Stay close to camp, will you?"

Gilligan frowned slightly. "How come?"

"I...uh..." The Professor stumbled over his words for a second. "I may need your help with something. So don't go far."

"Sure, Professor."

As soon as Gilligan and Mary Ann were out of hearing range the Skipper turned abruptly to the Professor. "Why do you want him to say close to camp? There _is_ something wrong with him isn't there?"

"I don't know, Skipper." The Professor's voice was frustrated. "I told you before, there is no effect I can ascertain. But my instruments are crude. It could very well have done _something_ to him, and I just don't have the tools to detect it. We just have to watch him closely." After a long moment of silence the Professor started for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To the supply hut. I want to know what that machine does." He turned slightly in the doorway. "Tell everyone else to stay away from there. I don't want there to be another accident."

The Skipper swallowed hard. "Be careful."


	3. Smaller

**3. **_**Smaller**_

_11:20 AM day 1_

"Thanks for helping me with the laundry, Gilligan." Mary Ann said as they walked from the lagoon to the cloths line. Gilligan carried the basket of clean, wet clothes under his arm. "You're so sweet." She flashed him a brilliant smile.

He blushed slightly. "Oh, it's nothing. I don't have anything else to do."

"Oh!" Mary Ann gave a frustrated stomp of her foot as they reached the clothesline. "I forgot the cloths pins." As she hurried off down the trail she called over her shoulder. "I'll be right back!"

Gilligan set the basket down as Mary Ann disappeared into the jungle foliage. A bunch of bananas caught his eye and he realized how long it had been since breakfast and lunch was another hour away. He had to stand on his tiptoes and stretch till his side hurt before he was able to pull one away from the bunch.

When he was about halfway through his banana Mary Ann stepped into the clearing carrying a small bag full of cloths pins. She glanced at his snack as she set the bag in the laundry basket. "That looks good. I think I want one." She glanced around, found the hanging bunch and started toward it.

"Let me get that for you Mary Ann."

"That's okay. I've got it." To Gilligan's confusion she reached up, stretching slightly, and picked the yellow fruit.

Gilligan frowned. She should not have been able to reach that high. He had stood on his tiptoes and even then he had to stretch. And he was taller than Mary Ann...wasn't he? If he could barely reach it, surely she couldn't.

"What's wrong, Gilligan? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Uh, Mary Ann?"

"Yes?"

"What have you been eating lately?"

She frowned slightly at the odd question. "Just coconuts, bananas, pineapples and fish like everybody else." She held up the banana in her hand as an example. "Why?"

"I think you're getting bigger."

Her mouth dropped open and her frown turned from one of confusion to outrage. First she was shocked at the uncalled for insult. Gilligan just didn't say mean things like that. Part of her wanted to cry and the other part wanted to slap him across the face. The former dominated. She tried to hide the tears welling up in her eyes as she shoved both hands on her hips. It wasn't so much the insult that bothered her, but that it was Gilligan who had said it. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say!" Her voice cracked slightly before the dam broke and tears ran down her cheeks.

Gilligan was horrified and baffled by her reaction. "What? What's wrong? What did I do?"

"You'd be upset too if you were a girl and somebody called you fat."

"I said that?" He wondered if he was losing what little memory he had.

"Of course, you did. Just a second ago." Her tears stopped as her confusion grew. How could he deny something he had just said? "You said I'm getting bigger."

"Oh, that!" He shook his head, glad that this was a misunderstanding he could easily remedy. "I didn't mean you were fatter, I meant taller. I think you're taller than me."

"Don't be silly, Gilligan. I'm not taller than you." But as the words escaped her mouth it hit her like a ton of coconuts. Being short statured as she was Mary Ann usually had to look up at people. But she realized at that moment that she was looking ever so slightly _down_ at Gilligan. "I...I think you're right." She stammered after a moment. "How tall are you?"

"Five eleven. And you?"

Her eyes grew wide. "Last time I checked I was five four. I _am_ growing!"

"Maybe you're just having a growth spurt." Gilligan said, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. "That's when you start growing really fast."

"I know what a growth spurt is. But I'm twenty-one. I thought I was done growing."

He shrugged. "Maybe your not as grown up as you thought you were."

"But this is the first time I've even grown an inch since I was seventeen!" Her voice began to rise with her worry. "And now I've grown at least seven inches!"

"Don't worry Mary Ann." He could see her rising panic and wanted to calm her down. "A few inches never hurt anybody. I mean, kids grow all the time."

Although still nervous his words helped a little. "Maybe you're right. A few inches aren't going to hurt."

"Right." He paused and his face fell slightly. "Unless you caught some weird tropical disease that makes you grow really, really fast and in the next coupla days you'll get so big that..." Gilligan's voice trailed off as that horrible picture impressed itself on his mind.

"Oh!" Mary Ann cried, becoming frightened again.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her back toward camp "Let's go see the Professor!"

_11:30 day 1_

They were back in the Professor's hut. This time it was Mary Ann who was sitting on the table. The Professor had been quiet during the examination and Gilligan and the Skipper paced anxiously.

"I've got some good news and some bad news." The Professor announced after a few moments.

"Tell us the good news first." Gilligan said, before Mary Ann had a chance to react.

"Mary Ann is fine. She's not growing."

The young farm girl let out a sigh of relief.

"What's the bad news?" The Skipper asked.

"Gilligan is shrinking."

Three jaws dropped in disbelief. "Shrinking!?"


	4. Shrinking

_**4. Shrinking**_

_11:32 AM day 1_

"There's no doubt about it." The Professor said as he rolled up the measuring tape. "Five three. You are definitely shrinking."

"Are you sure?" Gilligan asked, getting more upset by the second. "I never shrank before!"

"I've never heard of anybody shrinking before." Mary Ann added.

"Obviously it was instigated by the jolt Gilligan received from that device in the supply hut."

The first mate's eyes widened with a mixture of fascination and horror. "It's a shrink ray!"

The Professor nodded. "For lack of a better title, yes."

"Wow! A real shrink ray. Just like in 'The Adventures of X-Ray Man #10'. See, Dr. Teeth thought that if he shrank X-Ray Man he wouldn't be able to stop his evil plan to take over the world. So Dr. Teeth lured X-Ray Man into an old abandoned warehouse. He stepped out of the shadows and said: 'So, we meet again X-Ray Man!' And before he could do anything Dr. Teeth pulled the shrink ray out of his coat and fired. And 'ZAP' X-Ray Man shrank to only an inch high. That would have been the end of him but Dr. Teeth hadn't counted on Speedo, X-Ray Man's sidekick the radioactive daschund..."

"That's enough, Gilligan!" The Skipper shouted irritably. He was having a hard time grasping the whole situation and his first mate's narration did nothing to help his concentration.

Gilligan was quiet for a moment, but soon spoke up again. "It's too bad we didn't have this when Leo was here."

The Skipper frowned. "You mean the lion?"

Gilligan nodded. "Yeah. We coulda shrank him down to the size of a kitty cat. Then he wouldn't have been dangerous and he could have stayed."

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "The last thing you need is more pets."

The Professor smiled at the proposition. "Unfortunately, Gilligan, this 'shrink ray', as you call it, appears to work differently from the one in your comic book."

"Different how?"

"The one in the story caused an instantaneous decrease in size. Whereas you are shrinking gradually."

"I am? You mean I'm _still_ shrinking?" Gilligan's voice rose an octave.

The Professor nodded. "Even as we speak."

"How fast?" Mary Ann asked. "He caught that thing just this morning."

"If my calculations are correct, assuming the progression began when the beam made contact, his size is decreasing at a rate of two inches per hour."

"When am I going to stop?" The first mate was beginning to get worried. Being a few inches shorter didn't bother him but being a few _feet_ shorter certainly did.

"I don't know." The Professor gave a helpless shrug. "I'll have to study the machine more closely and see if I can find a way to reverse the process."

"What am I supposed to do till then?"

"Just proceed with business as usual until I find a way to counteract the affects of the ray."

"B…But what if you don't find one?"

"You'll just be smaller, that's all."

That seemed to put Gilligan's mind at ease. "Oh. I guess that's not so bad. Nobody ever died from being small, right Professor?"

The Professor nodded. "Right. Now, why don't you and Mary Ann go finish the laundry and I'll get to work."

"And after you're through with that get some dates for lunch." The Skipper added

"Aye, aye, sir!" Gilligan gave a crisp salute then he and Mary Ann left the hut for the second time that day.

As soon as they left the Professor's calm demeanor vanished and he began rushing to gather various tools and instruments.

The uncharacteristic urgency was not lost to the Skipper. "What's really wrong with him? I can take it. The truth, now, Professor."

He paused in his search to address the captain. "The truth is, I didn't tell Gilligan the whole truth."

"Well?" The Skipper prompted, clearly frightened for his young friend.

"If his size keeps decreasing at the current rate he will shrink out of existence by 7:00 tomorrow evening."

The captain's jaw dropped in horror. "You mean tomorrow evening he'll be..." He just couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

The Professor nodded gravely. "If I can't reverse the shrinking process. That's why I must begin testing the device immediately."

"Can I help in any way? I mean, maybe it would go faster with the two of us working on it."

"Skipper," The Professor said with a wry smile. "Do you know anything about theoretical physics or advanced electronics?"

"You got a point there, Professor."

"I'll tell you what you can do. I need complete, uninterrupted concentration. So keep everybody out of the supply hut." He picked up his bag of tools, but paused in the doorway. "...Especially Gilligan."

"Don't worry, Professor." The Skipper said with a hint of a sly grin. "I'll keep him busy."

True to his word the captain kept his first mate hopping all day. When he was finished with helping Mary Ann with the laundry the Skipper had him check the lobster traps then sent him to the Howell's to fix Mr. Howell's 'polo pony'...again.

"Oh, there you are, my boy!" Mr. Howell said jovially, waving Gilligan over to where he and his wife lounged under their palm umbrella. "Is it finished?"

Gilligan nodded. "I put a new leg on it and everything."

"Come closer, Gilligan." Mrs. Howell beaconed him over with one white-gloved hand while lifting her glasses to her nose with the other. Gilligan stood in confused silence, as she looked him over from head to toe.

"Is something wrong, Mrs. Howell?" He finally asked.

Ignoring the question she turned to her husband, gesturing with the glasses. "You know, Thurston, the captain is right. He _is_ smaller."

The millionaire looked up from his tropical drink. "Yes, the Professor says he's loosing two inches an hour."

"And I know why too!" Mrs. Howell shook a scolding finger at the first mate. "You've been drinking coffee."

Gilligan scrunched up his nose. "Coffee?"

"Of course. Everyone knows coffee stunts your growth."

Mr. Howell groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"But I don't drink coffee." Gilligan explained.

"I know, dear. A dreadful addiction like that is hard to admit. But as my psychiatrist used to say 'the sooner you admit you have a problem the sooner it can be overcome."

"Mrs. Howell, I don't even like coffee."

Mr. Howell spoke up, trying to stop the insanity before it had a chance to go any further. "Lovey, dear, he's shrinking because he was shot by that infernal device in the supply hut!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thurston." She dismissed the idea with a small wave. "You die from getting shot. You don't shrink."

"Not that kind of shot."

"Oh, you mean like the kind of shot you get at the doctor."

"No, not...."

"Gilligaaan!"

"That's the Skipper." Gilligan hooked a thumb in the direction of camp. "I better go." He hurried off, relieved to escape the uncomfortable conversation.

The rest of the day went by fast. The Skipper kept him so busy that he would have forgot all about his size if the Professor hadn't insisted he be measured every couple of hours.

_7:00 PM day 1_

Gilligan stood perfectly straight as the Skipper marked his height on the bamboo pole that served as a doorframe.

"4'0." The captain announced.

"I haven't been measured like this since I was a kid." Gilligan set his hat back on his head as he looked up at the marks on the pole. Beside each mark were his height and the time. The timeline began with '5'2, 11:30' and ended with the one they had just made. "Come to think of it, I haven't been this short since I was a kid either. You know, I never thought that once I grew up I'd grow right back down."

"Yeah." The Skipper said absently, trying to ignore the worry in the back of his mind that had been nagging him ever since his talk with the Professor. He shook his head, forcing himself to be optimistic. The Professor _would_ find a solution.

"Are we done?" Gilligan's voice tore him from his thoughts.

"Yep, that's all." He put an arm around his young friend's shoulder. It felt rather odd, having to reach down so far. "I can hear the others outside. Come on, Little Buddy, I think dinner's on." He chuckled softly. "You know, now you really are my _Little_ Buddy!"

"Ha, ha _ha_." Gilligan said with all the sarcasm he could muster. "I wouldn't be talking about size if I were you, Skipper."

"Why you...!" The captain grabbed his hat and made a swing for Gilligan's head. The first mate easily dodged the blow took off toward the communal table

When the Skipper reached the table the other castaways were already there. Gilligan was standing next to it filling his plate. "My legs are two feet shorter and I'm _still_ faster than you." He gave his captain a smug grin as they both sat down.

"Well at least _I_ don't need a booster seat."

"No. But you need a wider seat." Gilligan retorted as he sat on the bench beside Mary Ann. He stared at the table before him. Only his head and shoulders rose above it. Maybe he _did_ need a booster seat. With a shrug he pulled his legs up and sat on his knees. Only then did he reach a comfortable height with the table.

Suddenly he realized that all eyes were on him. "What?" He asked, wondering if he had something on his face.

"Sorry, Gilligan." Mary Ann said with an apologetic shrug. "We just didn't realize until now how small you've gotten."

Gilligan looked down at himself not quite knowing what to say. After a moment he looked back up at them with a lopsided grin. "You know, my mom used to tell me I'm always hungry because I'm a growing boy. But I think shrinking makes me hungrier." With that he started on his dinner.

After a moment he stopped eating and glanced around the table quizzically. "Where's the Professor?"

"He had his dinner in the supply hut." Mary Ann answered. "He's been in there all day."

"I tried to get him to take a break." Ginger said, shrugging her bare shoulders. "But he said that he isn't going to come out until he's figured out how that machine works."

"Oh." Gilligan looked in the direction of the supply hut feeling a small pang of guilt. It was his fault that the Professor had been cooped up in the hut all day probably wearing his brain out on that machine. "Maybe I oughtta go see if he needs any company." He grabbed his plate and made a move to rise.

There was an immediate chorus of: "NO!"

Gilligan jumped, startled at the severe response.

"Er..He's doing some very delicate work in there." The Skipper explained. "He said he can't be bothered by anybody."

The first mate sighed and took another bite of fish.

"Oh, don't look so downhearted Gilligan." Mary Ann said. "The Professor will figure it out."

"And even if he doesn't," Ginger added. "I know girls who would kill to have your waist size."

Gilligan smiled a bit. "You know, there's one good thing about being small." He said, looking at his plate, which was piled high. "The food's a lot bigger."

_11:00 PM day 1_

Gilligan lay in his hammock staring up at the ceiling. "Skipper, are you awake?"

"I am now." There was a slight note of irritation to his tired voice.

"I'm scared. What if the Professor can't find a way to make me stop shrinking?"

"He's the Professor. He'll find a way." The Skipper hoped he sounded more certain than he felt.

Gilligan didn't seem to hear the assurance. "I'll just get smaller and smaller until I'll be so small nobody can even hear me or see me." The first mate swallowed hard. "That would be really lonely."

"Listen to me, Gilligan." The Skipper reached up and grabbed the edge of his first mate's hammock, tipping it slightly so Gilligan had to look at him. "That's not going to happen. The Professor will think of something."

"I hope so."


	5. Nightmares

_**5. Nightmares**_

Gilligan stood on a vast yellow plane. It seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. As he walked across its strange woven surface he wondered just where he could be. Huge objects towered high above his head. Some were strange cylinders the size of sky-scrapers, others were giant spheres of various colors. He came near to one that was even more yellow than the ground he walked on and smelled like fruit. It looked like a sixty foot banana.

"Where is Gilligan? A voice boomed as loud as thunder. Gilligan looked to the sky, covering his ears.

The yellow plane did end, and past that end stood a figure higher than a mountain. He had to bend backwards to see the top. The figure spoke again. "Have you seen my Little Buddy?"

Gilligan gasped as he realized that the immense giant was none other than the Skipper. How did he get so big?

"I haven't seen the lad all day." Another voice boomed.

Gilligan whirled around to see Mr. Howell. He too was bigger than anything the first mate could have ever imagined.

"Breakfast is served." Mary Ann came into view, looming far above his head and set down a plate the size of the Rose Bowl. That was when it dawned on him that the vast plane on which he stood was in fact the communal table!

"How about you, Mary Ann?" The Skipper asked. "Have you seen Gilligan?"

"No. You looking for him?"

"I'm right here, Skipper." Gilligan answered, waving a hand at the captain. "What do you want?"

"Yes." The Skipper answered Mary Ann without even acknowledging Gilligan's question. "I want him to check the lobster traps but I can't seem to find him anywhere."

"Oh, you know Gilligan. He hates work." Came Ginger's breathy voice as her monumental form came into view. "He's probably hiding from you, Skipper."

"I am not!"

"You know, the boy is a bit more than fashionably late." Mrs. Howell remarked, waving a hand adorned with a ring as big as a satellite dish.

"I'm sure he'll be along shortly." The Professor said. "His olfactory senses are sure to detect the aroma of breakfast and he'll come running."

Gilligan turned in a circle, looking up at his colossal friends. He felt like a Lilliputian among a crowd of Gulliver's. "I'm right here!" He shouted again, this time at the top of his voice. He jumped up and down and waved his arms. Surely they would see him. He was right under their noses.

A shriek tore through the air. The sound was so loud it brought Gilligan to his knees, both hands clamped tightly over his ears.

"A bug!" Ginger shouted.

When he looked up she was pointing in his direction. He looked around him for the insect in question but saw nothing more than the surrounding tabletop.

Two more screams ripped at his eardrums. These came from Mary Ann and Mrs. Howell.

"Oh, what a horrid little creature!" Mrs. Howell cringed.

"This island is infested." Mr. Howell exclaimed. "We must call an exterminator at once!"

Again Gilligan looked around for what the others could be so upset about and again he saw nothing that would cause such commotion.

"Kill it, Professor!" Ginger cried.

"Perhaps that would be the wisest solution. The insects in this area can be poisonous."

"Poisonous?" Gilligan squeaked. Looking about him again with renewed urgency.

"I'll get him." He heard the Skipper say just before the ground shook with such violence that he was thrown off his feet. A rolled-up magazine the size of a semi thudded to the ground beside him. He scrambled backwards as it lifted up into the air again. "Missed!" The captain said, wielding the magazine like a fly swatter.

Horrible realization hit the first mate like a speeding locomotive. _He_ was the cause of the panic. They thought he was a bug! "Skipper, it's me! Your Little Buddy!" He cried frantically, trying to dodge the gigantic silverware that the girls were now hurling at him. He turned and ran the other way, barely missing a book the size of a whole library that slammed down in front of him. The shockwave rippled beneath his feet, throwing him off balance. He landed hard on his face, looking up just in time to see the magazine descending upon him

_7:05 AM day2_

Gilligan screamed and threw his arms up to protect himself. Trying to roll out of the way he flipped himself right out of his hammock and onto his slumbering bunk mate below.

The Skipper was jolted awake as a blow knocked the wind out of him. He opened his eyes to see Gilligan's blue eyes not two inches from his own. "Gilligan!" He bellowed angrily.

"I'm sorry Skipper." Gilligan said as he managed to slip off the captain's ample stomach and land with an 'oof' in the soft sand. "But I had a nightmare." He dusted himself and stood to his full height, which couldn't have been much more than two feet.

The captain could do little but stare wide-eyed at how small his first mate had become.

"Oh, Skipper, it was awful! I dreamed that I was standing on the table." He pointed in the general direction of door, outside which stood the communal table. "Only it was huge. The size of the Yankee Stadium. I heard this voice that was so loud I had to cover my ears and I looked up and it was you. And Skipper you were gigantic. I mean, even bigger than you are now!"

The captain frowned indignantly at the comment.

"Everybody was big, Skipper; you, the girls, the Howells and even the Professor. I had to look straight up just to see anybody's face. You were asking if anybody'd seen me. I tried to tell you that I was right there in front of you. I tried everything but you still didn't see me." He demonstrated, waving and jumping up and down. "Then the girls started screaming and throwing dishes the size of flying saucers at me." The young man's voice rose higher in pitch as he became more and more upset. "Skipper I was so small everyone thought I was a bug!! Then you took a rolled up newspaper and…" Gilligan, already nearly in tears, stopped mid-sentence. His blue eyes widened as they panned slowly up the Skipper's large form, from his sneakers to the cap on his head. In his panic he hadn't noticed just how much bigger than him his captain actually was. He took a step back in shock. "It is true, Skipper! I _am_ shrinking. What am I going to do?! I can't be this small! Where will I buy clothes? How can I ride my bike? What will I—"

"Don't panic, Little Buddy." The Skipper put a giant hand on Gilligan's tiny shoulder. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Fine?!" Gilligan cried. The nightmare had left a deep impression on him and now his greatly decreased size truly frightened him. "Look at me! I couldn't meet the height requirement for a merry-go-round."

"Come on, Gilligan." The Skipper rose from his hammock, towering above the little first mate. Gilligan's head barely rose above his knee. "Let's see if the Professor has made any progress."

The sun was just beginning to peek over the palm trees as they hurried over to the Professor's hut. Gilligan had to run to keep up.

The Skipper pounded on the door frame. "Professor!" Usually he would have just walked right in but he knew the delicate nature of the Professor's work and didn't want to jeopardize whatever he might be doing.

"I'm terribly busy." Came the tired voice from inside.

"It's about Gilligan."

"Come in."

They stepped into the supply hut to see the Professor with his back to them, studying something on a little wooden table that sat across from the troublesome machine. He turned toward them as they entered. Gilligan took in a small breath. He had never seen the Professor look so haggard. The Professor always kept himself so neat and trim. But now his shirt tail hung out on one side, stubble shadowed his face and dark circles under his eyes gave him a somewhat haunted look.

"Hey, Professor, are you sick or somethin'?" Gilligan asked, momentarily forgetting about his size in light of his friend's condition.

The Professor looked down at him and managed to stifle the shock of seeing the first mate so small. He had known, of course, about the size Gilligan would be now. But knowing and seeing were two different things. He forced a smile. "I'm fine, Gilligan. I've just been up all night working on a way to restore your height."

The way he looked Gilligan was sure that he hadn't taken one break.

"Now, Skipper, what is it?"

"Well, I ep…" The Skipper stammered, now not quite sure why he had come.

"You were so startled at Gilligan's decrease in size that you thought I'd better see him too." The Professor deduced.

The Skipper shrugged. "I guess so. Have you made any progress?"

"Some." The Professor motioned to the table.

Gilligan climbed up onto the nearest chair so he could see. "Looks like a fruit salad for a doll house."

On the table sat an assortment of pint-sized fruit; coconuts the size of marbles, mangos as small as jelly beans and a pineapple that could have passed for a Hawaiian paperweight.

"I have been experimenting with the 'shrink ray'," He had adopted Gilligan's name for the device for lack of a better one. "And have succeeded in reproducing the charge that began your reduction. However, achieving the reverse affect has proved more difficult. Although I have managed to slow the reduction rate to some extent."

"So you are making some headway?" The Skipper asked, desperate for some good news.

"Some." The Professor said with an honest sigh. "But there are so many controls and so many combinations and nothing is properly labeled." He shook his head in frustration.

"Maybe you just need a nap, Professor." Gilligan suggested. Even standing on the chair he just reached the Professor's chest. "My grandma always used to say:" He changed his voice to a grandmotherly squeak. "'Revelation always comes in your sleep."

The Professor smiled a bit. "I'm afraid I haven't the time or luxury for sleep right now, Gilligan. Now, please. I really need to get back to work." He shooed them both out the door and closed it behind them.

"You know, Skipper, it's not good for him to go without sleeping like that. One time Skinny Mulligan stayed awake for seventy hours, then fell asleep during the big football game. He caught a pass then fell asleep, just dropped right in the middle of the field. It would have been alright except…"

Mary Ann stepped into the clearing with a stack of plates, took one look at Gilligan and screamed. The plates fell from her hands and clattered to the sand. "I'm sorry." She said instantly, kneeling down to pick up the mess. Gilligan moved over to help her. "I just wasn't expecting…"

"What's all the ruckus about?! At this time in the morning, I mean really!" Mr. Howell, groused as he stepped out of his hut, wife close behind. He wore a silk, monogrammed robe and carried his scruffy teddy bear. "With a scream like that you'd think the stock market crashed." He shook an irritated finger at Mary Ann. Then he saw Gilligan and let out a startled shout of his own. "Good heavens! The boy's been shortchanged!" He exclaimed, stepping a bit closer to examine the first mate.

"Oh, Gilligan." Mrs. Howell scolded, shaking a gloved finger. "You've been indulging in that nasty coffee habit again!"

Gilligan stood up, holding two plates that, to him, were as big around as trash can lids. "Mrs. Howell, I told you I don't even like coffee. I wouldn't have had time to have any if I did but I don't. Because I didn't."

"Heavens to Freud! That boy needs a psychiatrist." Mr. Howell chuckled to himself and added. "Or should I say a 'shrink'?"

"That's enough, Howell." The Skipper warned. His first mate was having enough trouble without the millionaire's condescending remarks.

Just then Ginger opened the door to her hut and glided over to join the group. She saw Gilligan and brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle a surprised squeak. "Oh, Gilligan." She said with a small giggle. "You remind me of my wool sweater when it shrank in the wash."

"No I don't." He said, trying to ignore the tactless teasing. "That sweater was fuzzy and pink with little flowers and…"

"Gilligan, why don't you go help Mary Ann with breakfast." The Skipper ordered before his first mate ran off into some pointless conversation.

"Sure Skipper. But what about the lobster traps?" Gilligan flinched slightly as soon as he said it. It was usually his first duty in the morning and he shouldn't have reminded his captain of the fact. He would much rather hang out with Mary Ann then wade around in the lagoon and get his fingers pinched.

"I'll deal with the lobster traps today."

Gilligan knocked one ear with his palm, trying to dislodge whatever must be affecting his hearing. "Say that again. I don't think I heard you right." The Skipper would never do a job if he thought Gilligan could do it without catastrophe.

"I said I'll see to the lobster traps this morning."

The first mate shrugged, not daring to question his good luck further. "Okay, Skipper. But watch the pincers."

"I will." He said with a hint of sarcasm as Gilligan followed Mary Ann from the clearing.

"That was awful nice, Skipper." Ginger said with suspicion. She too wondered why the captain had so generously offered to do Gilligan's job. It wasn't as if the first mate was actually sick, just small.

"I want him to stay close to camp." The Skipper explained. "I'm afraid he'll get lost."

"Lost?" Mr. Howell scoffed. "That boy knows this island better than I know a thousand dollar bill!"

"Yes, Dear. But I would imagine things would look differently when one is so small."

"That's exactly my point. If he gets lost and doesn't come back by this evening…" The Skipper trailed off, swallowing hard.

"Or what?" Ginger asked, noting the somber tone in the Skipper's voice. " 'If he doesn't come back by this evening' what?"

The Skipper sighed heavily. He had not planned on telling them. No use everyone else being as worried as he was. But he supposed they had a right to know. "I might as well tell you. If the Professor doesn't find a way to stop Gilligan from shrinking by 7:00…" He removed his hat and held it over his heart. "It's going to be curtains."

Mr. Howell and Ginger looked shocked while Mrs. Howell nodded in approval. "Well it's about time you boys added a feminine touch to that hut of yours."

The millionaire hugged his wife a little closer as if she could protect him from the dire news. "You mean if the Professor can't stop this dastardly recession the poor boy will be…?"

The Skipper nodded solemnly. "He'll shrink out of existence."

"Poor Gilligan." The movie star's eyes glistened.

Mrs. Howell tapped her chin thoughtfully with one gloved finger. "You ought to try a floral pattern. It would really compliment the green of the hut."

"Lovey, what in the name of J.P Morgan _are_ you talking about? This is serious business!"

"Well of course it's serious. If Gilligan's going to be putting up curtains they need to decide on an appropriate fabric."

"No. The captain doesn't mean 'curtains' as in window dressings. He means 'curtains' as in death: the final bankruptcy."

Mrs. Howell's eyes widened in realization and she took in a small gasp. "Oh, dear! Whatever can we do to help?"

The Skipper shook his head despondently. "I don't think there's much we can do but hope the Professor can make him big again."

"We should feed him spinach." Mrs. Howell concluded with a decisive nod.

The others just stared at her in confusion.

"Spinach makes one grow up big and strong. Or so I've been told."


	6. Apenapped

_**6. Ape-napped**_

_7:40 AM day 2_

Mary Ann slowed her pace when she realized that Gilligan had to hurry to keep up with her. Under her arm she carried a large basket of fruit and dried fish.

"Why don't you let me carry that for you Mary Ann." Gilligan said, sounding a bit out of breath. "It's too heavy for a girl."

She looked down at him, knowing there was no way he could possibly lift the load, but at the same time not wanting to hurt his feelings. "Thank you, Gilligan." She gave him a grateful smile. "But it's not heavy, really. Besides, the Professor says exercise makes you live longer."

"I don't know, Mary Ann." He shook his head in disagreement. "Sometimes it can be dangerous. I knew a guy once named Miles O'Brian and he used to exercise all the time. He took a ten-mile jog every morning and he was always going to the gym and lifting weights. He died at thirty-five."

Mary Ann's brown eyes widened at the first mate's tale. "Too much exercise killed him?"

Gilligan nodded. "He tripped on a dumbbell."

The young farm girl rolled her eyes with a long-suffering smile. They soon reached the island 'kitchen', an area just off to the side of the group of huts. There was a small table that served adequately as a counter, a basin for washing dishes, and off to one side stood Mary Ann's pride and joy. A large brick oven. The Professor had built it for her out of a clay deposit he had found. Many scrumptious pies had come out of that oven.

She set the basket on the table and began to empty its contents, setting each item on the table in order of what she would use first.

Gilligan walked up to the table and a small frown puckered his forehead. It loomed quite a ways above his head. He didn't think he liked being this small. With an 'oh well' shrug and a grunt of effort he climbed onto the bench. "What do you want me to do?"

After a brief moment of thought she went to the 'cupboard' (a small box with doors on the side) and pulled out the cutting board, really a smooth piece of wood that had come from the Minnow's hull, and a small knife. "You can cut the fruit while I cook the fish." She instructed as she set the items before the fist mate.

He picked up the knife. It was huge, more like a machete, really. Well, compared to him it was. With the other hand he grabbed a basketball-sized mango.

"So, how's the Professor doing?" Mary Ann asked as she pulled out the frying pan.

"Not so good. I don't think he slept last night at all. And he needs to shave."

"Oh. I am sorry about that. But I mean 'is he getting any closer to a solution'."

"Well, he said that…" Gilligan trailed off and they both turned at the sound of rustling foliage. "Hello, Gladys." He said to the large chimpanzee that had ambled into the clearing.

At the sight of the small first mate it let out a surprised grunt.

Gilligan rolled his eyes. "Not you too."

The chimp approached him cautiously, one step at a time, cocking her head and studying him with obvious intensity. She didn't know what to make of the tiny human.

Mary Ann watched from a safe distance. Some of Gilligan's larger pets made her a little nervous. She was always amazed at how easily Gilligan had befriended so many of the wild animals on their small island.

Gladys reached Gilligan and looked him up and down before giving him a small poke.

Gilligan stifled a giggle and grabbed his side as if he had been tickled. "Yeah, it's really me."

She gave him a pat on his head and hooted a few times.

The first mate looked a bit offended. "You don't have to rub it in."

The ape continued to coo at him and petted the side of his face, gently as one would a pet or child.

He shook his head and pushed her hand back. "Listen, I can't play now. I've got to help Mary Ann with breakfast."

Without warning the chimp threw an arm around Gilligan's waist and snatched him off the bench.

Mary Ann screamed.

"Hey, what's the big idea?!" Gilligan yelled, trying to squirm out of the primate's iron grip. "Gladys, put me DOWN!"

With a triumphant shriek the ape bolted into the jungle with Gilligan under her arm.

"Come back!" Mary Ann shouted, chasing after them. But the chimp swung up into the trees and was quickly lost from view. Realizing that she could do nothing to help Gilligan herself, she ran back into camp. "Skipper, Professor!! HELP!"

Everyone gathered instantly around the distraught girl as she burst out of the jungle.

"What's wrong?" The Professor panted, having bolted from the supply hut in such a hurry he had knocked over his worktable.

"Are you hurt?" The Skipper asked as Mary Ann grabbed his arm as if he could protect her from the horrible news she was about to relay.

She shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "It's Gilligan!" She cried, pointing into the jungle.

The Skipper felt his chest constrict. "What happened? Where is he?"

"That monkey took him!" She said, practically in tears. "It just grabbed him and ran away. I…I couldn't stop it."

"My poor Little Buddy! We've got to find him!" The Skipper was ready to storm into the jungle right then and there.

"Hold on a moment, Skipper." The Professor put a restraining hand on his shoulder. He turned to Mary Ann. "Which one was it? And how did it behave toward Gilligan?"

The young farm girl frowned slightly, not understanding why this could be important. "It was Gladys, that big chimpanzee. At first she seemed surprised at how small he was but then she started to pet him. It was the strangest thing I ever saw, Professor. She touched his face and hair and made noises at him."

The Professor held the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I was afraid of that."

There was a urgent chorus of: "What?!"

"Evidently Gilligan's size has triggered the maternal instinct in this particular primate. It seems she has adopted him as her offspring."

The Skipper's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean that ape thinks it's Gilligan's mother?"

The Professor nodded. "If I am interpreting Mary Ann's description accurately."

"But how can that be?" Mary Ann asked. "He doesn't even look like a chimpanzee."

"I know where you can get two to one against that." Mr. Howell quipped.

"Oh, come dear." His wife countered. "The boy doesn't even have apposeable toes!"

The Professor shook his head, frustrated at how the conversation had deviated. "My point is that, considering the circumstances it may be difficult to liberate Gilligan if she is protecting him as she would an infant."

Mary Ann nodded in understanding. On the Kansas farm where she grew up she had learned very quickly that you had to be careful around any animal with babies.

"Oh my, yes." Mrs. Howell agreed. "You all know what they say about a mother scorned."

Ignoring the wealthy woman's malapropism the Skipper shook a determined fist. "I don't care what it takes we've got to get him back."

"Here, here!" Mr. Howell raised his swagger stick in concurrence.

"Which way did it take him?" The captain asked urgently.

"That way." She pointed to the jungle behind her. "But they could be anywhere by now."

"Then let's split up. We'll cover more ground that way. Mr. and Mrs. Howell, you search in that direction." The Skipper waved a beefy arm to the right. "Mary Ann, Ginger, you girls can go that way. And the Professor and I will search down by the lagoon."

There was a quick round of nods and the group began to purposefully disperse.

The Skipper started down the trail but stopped when he realized that the Professor was not following. "Come on, Professor. We've got to find him." He beckoned him over with a quick wave.

The Professor shook his head in refusal. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" There was a sharp, almost angry edge to the Skipper's voice. "Gilligan is in trouble."

"Skipper, if I can't properly decipher that machine it won't matter if you find Gilligan at all."

_9:15 AM day 2_

"Gladys, no more. Please!" Gilligan turned his head and put a hand up as the chimp tried to feed him a tenth banana. He had given up struggling about an hour ago and now lay tolerantly in the ape's hairy arms, cradled like a baby. They were now high up in the crotch of a tree and even if he did manage to escape the motherly monkey he had no idea how he could get down.

She gave an insistent grunt and shoved the fruit in his face. He determinedly kept his mouth closed and ended up with sticky white mush from nose to chin. He grimaced in disgust and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Cut that out!" He cried, pushing her hand away. "I'm full." He pointed to his stomach, which he tried to protrude as far as possible to get his point across. "If I eat another bite I'll explode. You know, 'explode'? Pshhheeeww!" His fingers flicked open as he mimicked the action with his hands as well as his voice.

The ape bared her teeth in what could have been interpreted as a smile at his odd behavior, then puckered her lips and gave him a big wet kiss right on the forehead.

Gilligan cringed and his whole body stiffened, bracing himself against the very unwanted show of affection. "Yuucchh!" He managed to pull his face away, drool now glazing the entire top half of his face. "I should have named you after my aunt Sarah." He said, trying frantically to wipe the slime away. "Her kisses are just like yours."

- -

"Gilligaaaan!"

Mary Ann and Ginger called as they moved through the jungle undergrowth. The movie star slowed and shook her head in frustration. "I can't do this anymore." She said, looking rather pained as she touched her throat. "My voice can't take much more of this."

"We've got to keep hunting for Gilligan." Mary Ann insisted. It was all her fault that Gilligan was in this mess. Why hadn't she understood the first mate's vulnerability and kept the chimp away from him? She should have paid more attention to which direction it had taken. She hoped beyond hope that they would find him before it was too late.

"Mary Ann, all I know how to hunt for is men."

A tiny frown of confusion puckered Mary Ann's forehead. "Gilligan's a man."

The redhead smiled slyly. "In the words of Thurston Howell the III: 'I know where you can get two to one against that.'"

Mary Ann's frown deepened, annoyed at the flippancy in which Ginger was handling the situation. "Gilligan is in real trouble. This is no time to make fun of him."

Ginger had the decency to look a bit ashamed and they continued their search.

--

"Thurston?" Mrs. Howell turned to her husband as they picked their way down a jungle path, calling the first mate. "How are we going to get Gilligan away from that monkey once we find them? The Professor said that she's not going to give him up easily."

Mr. Howell poked at the bushes with his swagger stick as they moved, hoping to flush the ape, or perhaps even Gilligan from hiding. "How do you get anyone to do something they don't want to do? Bribery."

"Well, of course, dear." She said with a small wave of her bejeweled hand, as if it went without saying. "But what do we have that an ape would want? I can't imagine it would have any use for money."

For an instant the millionaire looked offended at such sacrilegious talk about money. But after a moment of thought he nodded in agreement. "You are so right, Lovey. Their financial system is rather nonexistent. We'll just have to find something else to tempt the beast with. Now what could possibly be enticing to a female ape?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his stick.

"Perhaps some banana scented perfume." Mrs. Howell suggested. "A woman could hardly turn down perfume, if it's expensive enough."

"It just might work at that. I wonder how long it would take the Professor to whip up a batch."

- -

The Skipper's booming voice echoed through the forest as he searched. "Gilligaaan!" Worry had tied his insides into knots. He had always been protective of his first mate. There was a kind of paternal instinct that told him from the very beginning that Gilligan needed looking after. Maybe it was because he was the just the right age to be his son. Or maybe it was because he was so young and inexperienced, and he took the world so lightly. Often a dangerous thing to do. Perhaps it was simply his child-like personality.

In any case they had been through a lot together and the skinny, confusing first mate meant the world to him. Now his little buddy was in big trouble. Not only had he been kidnapped by an ape but he was no bigger than a toddler. Anything could happen to him at that size! He knew that Gilligan was vulnerable and he should have known better than to let him out of his sight. But that wasn't the worse part. If they didn't find Gilligan before evening…

The thought brought a lump to his throat. He swallowed it with some difficulty and continued to call. They just had to find him.


	7. Monkey's Uncle

_**7. Monkey's Uncle**_

_10:00AM day 2_

"Gladys, I mean it!" Gilligan said in the most demanding voice he could manage. He had long ago had enough of being cuddled and cooed at by the over affectionate ape. She was a gentle animal, one he had come to call his friend. But enough was enough. "I am done playing! I need to go back to camp."

She ignored his outburst like a mother might overlook a toddler's tantrum. With one thick-fingered hand she removed his hat and began to pick through his hair.

He snatched his hat back and crossed his arms in a huff, reluctantly allowing himself to be groomed. There just had to be a way to escape.

- -

Mr. Howell mopped at his brow with a silk, monogrammed handkerchief and blew out a tired breath. As unaccustomed to exercise as the millionaire was, the nearly two-hour long search was leaving him exhausted. He leaned heavily against the nearest palm tree and put a hand to his side where he was getting a distinct cramp.

"Thurston, we can't stop yet." His wife urged, fanning him with her scarf. "We haven't found Gilligan."

"Lovey, this little jaunt is beginning to smack of manual labor. I mean look at this!" He wiped his forehead with one hand and motioned to the moisture that had formed on his palm. "There it is again. Perspiration. If the boys at the Harvard Club saw this much water coming off of me they'd think I'd been in the steam bath for a week."

"But Thurston, Dear. The poor boy is shrinking and he's been kidnapped by a monkey. The dear lad is probably frightened out of his wits. He needs a big strong man to come to his rescue." Mrs. Howell stroked her husband's cheek just as she did his ego.

The millionaire straightened and took a deep breath, inflating his chest and thrust his chin out bravely. "You are so right, Lovey. The lad does need our help. And a Howell never abandons a friend in need!"

"Oh, Darling, you're so brave!"

"…Unless they've just gone bankrupt and want a loan." He added with a chuckle before resuming their trek into the 'wilds' of the little island. "Gilligan, where are you, my boy?!"

They had not traveled very far before their calls were answered.

"Here I am, Mr. Howell! Help!" Came the first mate's voice from somewhere in the surrounding jungle.

Mr. Howell turned in a full circle, trying to deduce where the voice had come from while Mrs. Howell brought her glasses-on-a-stick up to her eyes so she could better search.

"Where?" Mr. Howell asked, wondering if the first mate had already shrunk too microscopic proportions and was simply too small to see.

"Up here!"

In unison the couple turned their faces heavenward. There, not ten feet above their heads, Gladys sat comfortably in the crotch of a tree. On her lap sat Gilligan, waving frantically with both arms, trying desperately to get the Howell's attention.

"Are you alright up there, my boy?" Mr. Howell asked. "If that beast has harmed you I'll…" He raised his swagger stick to punctuate the threat.

"No. I'm fine. Gladys wouldn't hurt me." Came his answer. "But she won't let me down. I'm beginning to feel like Fay Wray!"

Mr. Howell gave a sharp laugh. "My boy you couldn't even pass the physical."

"Well, of course she won't let you go, Gilligan." Mrs. Howell spoke loudly so he would be sure to hear her. "She is your mother, you know."

"What?"

"It seems the hairy creature has adopted you." Mr. Howell explained.

"Then I abdicate!!" Gilligan shouted back, now straining against the ape's grip in hope of somehow getting loose and into the protection of his rich friend's.

"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Howell said, watching Gilligan's futile attempt at escape. "We've got to get him down from there."

Taking his wife's words to heart Mr. Howell, stepped forward to address the chimp directly. Despite their earlier conversation on lower primate's lack of interest in currency, natural instinct stepped in. "Now listen here, Cheetah. What interest could you possibly have in that skinny, hairless excuse for a sapian? I'll tell you what: I'll take the little nipper off your hands for, say, a hundred thousand dollars."

"A hundred thousand?" Gilligan squeaked, surprised that he could possibly be worth so much.

Mr. Howell stamped one foot. "Gilligan, will you be quiet while I'm bargaining!" He instantly turned his attention back to Gladys who had ignored his offer. "Okay, two hundred thousand." Nothing. "Three." Nothing. "You drive a hard bargain, my friend. Alright, half a million."

Gilligan gulped, barely able to comprehend the amount of money being offered for his freedom.

Gladys still didn't give the millionaire a second glance.

"Now listen here, Sasquatch!" Mr. Howell bellowed, beginning to get flustered. A man of his standing rarely tolerated being ignored. "The least you could do is have the decency to pay attention when someone is trying to bribe you!"

Apparently not liking his tone, Gladys bared her teeth and let out a bloodcurdling shriek and waved a shooing arm. The gesture was obviously a threat.

Mr. Howell's bravery wavered and he took a step back, raising an arm as if to defend himself against a blow.

"How rude!" Mrs. Howell put a hand to her chest, shocked at such uncouth behavior.

"I don't think she can be bribed, Mr. Howell." Gilligan said, seeing the negotiations going downhill.

"Nonsense!" The millionaire countered, as if the first mate had just questioned the law of gravity. "_Everyone_ has a price." He addressed Gladys again. "Now what will it be? Your own banana plantation? A dinner with Jane Goodall? A part in the next Tarzan picture? Come now!" A coconut shot through the air, barely missing Mr. Howell's head. Another followed it closely, this one klunking solidly off his pith helmet. He backed up and raised both hands to protect his head.

Gladys was now screaming unintelligible threats and throwing everything that she could reach at the rich couple below.

"Gladys, Stop!" Gilligan pleaded unsuccessfully

"Well I never!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed in offense as she and her husband backed out of firing range.

"Good heavens! A Yale man!"

"Perhaps had better go get the Skipper and the girls. They may have another plan."

"Yes, Lovey. It's time to call in reinforcements." With that they turned and started into the jungle.

"Wait!" Gilligan called after them in panic. "You're not going to leave me?!"

"We'll return in a jiffy." Mr. Howell assured. "And this time we'll bring the cavalry."

"But…" Gilligan's worried voice trailed off as he watched his friends disappear into the ocean of green. He looked up at Gladys with a confused frown. "I didn't know there were any horses on the island."

_10:40AM day 2_

"Captain! Oh, Captain!"

The Skipper stopped and squinted in the direction of the millionaire's voice. The rich couple emerged from the tangle of vegetation and hurried over to him. They both seemed out of breath.

"I'm so glad we finally found you, Captain!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed, fluttering a large fan.

"Well?" He urged. "What is it?"

"We found Gilligan." Mr. Howell managed between gasps, clutching his chest as if his heart were about to give out.

"You found him?!" In his excitement the Skipper grabbed Mr. Howell by both shoulders and gave him a small shake. "You found him!?"

"Physical contact, _please!_" Mr. Howell gave the captain's hand a sound smack with his stick.

"Ep…I'm sorry, Mr. Howell." The Skipper stepped back, out of the millionaire's private bubble. "It's just I've been so worried about him. Where is he? Is he alright?"

"That dastardly beast is holding him captive." Mr. Howell waved a hand at the jungle behind them.

"It refuses to release him." The wife added. "I tell you, Captain, that monkey has the most appalling manners! If Emily Post had been there she would have died."

"She's right. The creature is an absolute _animal_. It wouldn't even take a bribe!"

The Skipper glanced in the direction of camp, wishing that the Professor could come with them. He knew animal psychology almost as well as Gilligan. Surely he would have a plan. But the high school teacher was already occupied with something of the utmost importance. They would just have to make due without him. "Let's get the girls and see if we can help him."

_11:00AM day 2_

It had been a long time since the Howell's had left and Gilligan was beginning to wonder if they were coming back at all. What if they had lost their way or forgot where he was? Or even worse, what if the owners of the machine had come and in the excitement of being rescued they had forgot all about him? They would leave and he would be stranded on this island all alone! The mere thought of being left by himself forever brought a horrible loneliness that settled like a stone in his chest. He shifted restlessly in Gladys' hairy arms wondering if he would ever see his friends again.

"Gilligan!"

He sat up instantly at the sound of the Skipper's voice. As he peeked over Gladys' large arm he could see his shipmate emerge from the foliage below, closely followed by the girls and the Howells.

"Skipper, I'm up here!" He waved an arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Get me down. I'm still getting smaller and the next time she kisses me I'm gonna drown!"

Gladys stared nervously at the large group forming below. She hooted loudly, clutching Gilligan close and chucked a handful of leaves down at them.

"I think you're making her mad." Gilligan said, renewing his struggle to escape. Now that his friends were down there he might just have a chance.

"Say! That gives me an idea!" The Skipper beckoned the others close to hear his plan.

Both Gilligan and Gladys watched the castaway's huddle with great interest although neither could hear a word being said. Although at one point Mr. Howell and Ginger seemed quite indignant at whatever the Skipper was suggesting. Soon some decision was made, for the Skipper broke away from the group and disappeared into the thick jungle while the others turned toward the tree where the ape and the first mate watched curiously.

Then, to Gilligan's utter astonishment, all four of them, the sophisticated Howells, the glamorous movie star and petite little Mary Ann began whip up such a scene that the first mate wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. They were all shouting at the top of their voices. Mr. Howell was waving his arms like some over-stuffed bird, Mrs. Howell was clawing the air with those white-gloved hands, Ginger waved her blue scarf above her head and Mary Ann was jumping up and down, screaming her head off and looking for all the world like a child having a tantrum. Gilligan couldn't help but let his jaw drop.

He could feel Gladys' fur bristle at the commotion. She hooted loudly waving her free arm but the castaways continued to yell, looking like a pack of monkeys themselves. She started to throw things again, bark, moss, coconuts, still with only one arm while the other kept a firm grip on the first mate. When this continued to produce no effect on the intruders she looked down at Gilligan for a moment then set him down on the branch beside her and began using both arms to hurl things down at the noisy humans.

Now free of the ape's grip he frantically searched the tree for some means of decent. There were very few branches and none he could reach, no handholds that he could see and the trunk was much to thick for him to shimmy down. His whole plight seemed hopeless. But he had to give his friends credit. They were still standing at the base of the tree, trying to dodge the debris being rained down upon them by the infuriated primate.

After only moments of this Gladys had had enough. With one swift motion she swung out of the tree and landed on the ground. The four castaways scattered with startled shrieks. But they didn't run far. Once sure they were out of striking distance they resumed shouting and taunting, working the ape into a complete frenzy. She beat the ground with both fists, bearing her large canine teeth. Then with a scream right out of a horror movie she lunged. The four castaways leaped back, turned tail and bolted. They disappeared into the jungle as fast as their feet could take them, the infuriated primate fast on their heels. He hoped that she wouldn't hurt them. Gladys liked him but she was so angry right now he didn't know what she might do if she caught up to his friends.

"Pssst. Gilligan."

Gilligan looked down to see the Skipper standing at the base of the tree.

"Come on down, Little Buddy." The Captain beckoned urgently with one hand.

The first mate shook his head. "I'm not sure I can. There's nothing to hold on to."

The Skipper looked the tree up and down appraisingly. He saw that Gilligan was right. "Jump." He held out both arms. "I'll catch you."

"Jump?!" Gilligan squeaked in disbelief. "You got to be kidding! This is like jumping off the main mast!"

"Don't be a chicken, Gilligan. It can't be much more than ten feet."

"What if you don't catch me? I'll hit the ground like an overripe cantaloupe!"

"Jump! Hurry up, before she comes back."

"But Skipper…"

"Jump, Gilligan!" The Skipper's thundering voice demanded. "That's an order!"

The first mate flinched at the severe tone. Unable to disobey such a direct order he moved to the very edge. It wasn't that he was particularly afraid of heights, on the contrary he loved to climb trees and stand on the big cliff on the north side of the island. But enjoying being up high and intentionally jumping off something so lofty were two very different things. So with a deep breath to brace himself, he closed his eyes, held his nose and stepped out into open space. "Geronimooo!"

Gilligan landed squarely in the Skipper's outstretched arms and the captain caught him easily. He couldn't have weighed much more than seven pounds and was now about the size of a typical ragdoll. "You can open your eyes now, Gilligan."

The first mate cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Seeing that he was still alive and in one piece he looked up at the Skipper and gave him a crooked smile. "Nice catch, Skipper."

The Skipper grinned a little, then looked nervously over his shoulder. "We'd better get out of here before she comes back."


	8. Waiting

_**8. Waiting**_

_11:40 AM day 2_

"Professor!" The Skipper shouted as he stepped into camp and set Gilligan on the ground. "We found him!"

He had carried the little first mate back to the compound. The Skipper had been in a hurry to return, both to rejoin the others and to see if the Professor had made any progress. With Gilligan's size he couldn't have kept up with the captain's swift pace. Gilligan was glad to be set down. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being carried around like a helpless little kid. But he was beginning to think he didn't like it.

The Professor poked his head out of the supply hut and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good." The high school teacher looked as exhausted as his voice sounded. "Are you hurt?"

Gilligan shook his head, having to look straight up at the resident genius. "I'm fine. But I kind of hate to do that to Gladys. She's gonna be pretty upset when she comes back and finds me gone."

"She'll get over it." The Skipper said with a roll of his eyes. All that was going on and Gilligan was concerned about his pet monkey's mental health! He turned to the Professor who, considering his unkempt appearance could have passed for a city bum. "Have you made any progress?"

The Professor looked at him with tired blue eyes and shook his head slowly. "Not yet." He ran a hand through his uncombed, dusty brown hair. "Listen, I really need to get back to work."

"Hold on, Professor." The Skipper grabbed his arm before he could renter the hut and shut the door on them. "Maybe Gilligan was right. A rest might help you think better. You look awful."

The Professor straightened in a rather unsuccessful display of vigor. "I'm fine, Skipper. Really. I'm just a little tired. Besides, as I explained previously, I simply don't have time." He glanced meaningfully down at Gilligan, who cocked his head curiously, then back up at the Skipper. "Remember, I'm working against a deadline."

The Skipper winced at his friend's word choice and nodded. "Good luck, Professor." He gave the Professor's shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

The Professor gave a small nod of thanks before disappearing back into the supply hut.

Gilligan looked up at the Skipper, a small frown puckering his boyish face. "What did he mean, 'working against a deadline'?"

"Ep…well…it's…" He stammered a bit, caught off guard by the question and still not wanting Gilligan to fully comprehend the danger he was in. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

Gilligan stared at the supply hut door for a moment. He was worried about the Professor. The Skipper was right, he looked awful. He had hardly been out of that hut at all since yesterday morning and it was obvious that he had done nothing but work on that troublesome machine the entire time.

"Gilligan!"

At the sound of the voice they both turned to see Ginger and Mary Ann emerge from the forest.

The young farm girl rushed up to them. "Gilligan, I'm so glad you're alright! I was so worried about you."

As she approached Gilligan let out a small yelp, clamped both hands over his eyes and turned his head down.

Mary Ann frowned, both confused and put off by the reaction. "Gilligan, that's not very nice. Look at me when I'm talking."

"No." He shook his head, still staring at the ground.

The young farm girl glanced at the Skipper and Ginger both of them gave her a shrug that showed they were just as confused as she was. "Why not?"

"Because I'm way down here and you're wearing a dress…"

"Oh!" Mary Ann cried in realization, reaching down and holding her skirt so it hugged her legs. Her cheeks turned a little pink as she hurried toward her hut. "I'll go change into some pants."

"Thanks."

The Skipper allowed himself a small snicker and Ginger giggled.

With a bit of a laugh in her voice the movie star spoke to Gilligan, who still had his eyes covered. "You can look now, Gilligan."

He didn't move. "Are you wearing a dress?"

"Yes. But you can look anyway." She gave the Skipper a sly wink.

"Oh, no!" Gilligan shook his head vigorously.

"I promise my dress won't give you any trouble."

"Cross your heart?"

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven sake, Gilligan!"

Ginger smiled, amused. "Cross my heart."

Gilligan opened one eye and peeked through his fingers. He relaxed and dropped both hands as he saw that her sparkling gown was so long it brushed sand at her feet. "Hey, you're right."

The movie star crossed her arms and shook her head a little. "My, Gilligan, you certainly are shy."

Before Gilligan had a chance to respond here was a loud moan from behind them. They all turned to see Mr. Howell stumble into the clearing. His safari outfit now looked as if it had actually been used as such. Dirt smudged the khaki fabric and there was a tear in his left sleeve. His pith helmet was missing and bits of foliage adorned his thinning hair. His wife followed close behind looking a bit spent but none the worse for wear.

The millionaire dragged himself across the clearing and collapsed onto the bench beside the table.

They all hurried over to him. Gilligan, now an inch or two shorter than the bench, hopped up and grabbed the edge. He hung there for a moment before he was able to swing a leg up and haul himself onto the bench so he was standing next to Mr. Howell.

The millionaire glanced down at him. "Gilligan, my boy, you better stay away from that ape of yours. Because I am not, repeat, _not_ doing that again!"

"What happened?" Gilligan asked. The tear in the millionaire's shirt was big enough for him to crawl through. "You're a mess!"

"That rabid beast that you call a pet decided to use _me_ as a scratching post!"

Gilligan winced slightly at the volume of Mr. Howell's voice. It was clear that the millionaire blamed him for the encounter. "I'm sorry, Mr. Howell. She didn't hurt you, did she?"

He didn't directly answer the question but they all knew that had the financial genius been injured in the slightest he would not have kept it a secret.

"Do me a favor, Gilligan. Next time you insist on being kidnapped make sure it's by someone who understands the concept of ransom."

_1:30 PM day2_

It was just after lunch. Mary Ann had made a huge meal since, due to Gilligan's abduction, no one had a chance to make breakfast. Now Gilligan sat, cross-legged on the table, staring at a checkerboard that reminded him of the floor of a diner back home. The squares were just about the same size as floor tiles.

"Skipper?"

"Hmm?" The captain looked up from the game to see a thoughtful frown on his first mate's tiny face. He was trying to keep Gilligan busy, too busy to really think about his predicament. He didn't think it was working.

"The people who own that machine are going to be here in a few days." He stood up and picked up a red checker the size of a large pizza and moved it a space. After sitting back down he looked up at his shipmate. "What are you going to do when we're rescued? I mean, are you still going to go back to the Navy?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Well…" Gilligan hesitated a moment as if searching for the right words. "I don't think I can make the weight limit."

The Skipper felt a sudden ache in his chest. He had been trying hard not to think about his little buddy's condition, telling himself that the Professor would find a solution any minute. But he knew the clock was ticking and every time he looked at Gilligan he could see that that time was rapidly running out. It took great effort to make his reply sound casual. "By the time we get rescued you'll be back to your regular size." He lifted a black checker and jumped one of Gilligan's pieces.

"I hope so because if I tried to eat myself up to regulations from this size I think I'd get sick." He stood again, lifted a game piece, jumped three black pieces, walking as he moved. Dropping the checker at the edge of the board he looked up at the Skipper with a sly grin. "King me."

--

Mary Ann stared into the soapy water where sat the dishes from lunch. The image blurred as tears glistened in her brown eyes. Ginger had told her about the seriousness of Gilligan's loss of height. Before, she had just been worried about him because he was small. Now that she knew the whole story she couldn't keep herself from crying. She slapped the dishrag into the water, hung her head and allowed herself a little sob.

With one tear slipping down her cheek she turned to Ginger, who was sitting at the small table pretending to help. "I can't stand just standing here doing nothing while Gilligan is…is…" She sniffed and brought a hand up to her mouth. "There has to be something we can do."

The movie star stood and put a comforting hand on her friend's back. She shook her head, bouncing her fiery read hair around her neck. "The Professor says that the only solution is for him to figure out that machine. I don't see how we can help with that." She too was concerned about Gilligan. It's true that he seriously annoyed her from time to time but he was also kind and generous. He was like the little brother she had never had and didn't want to lose him.

"I guess you're right." Mary Ann girl balled her hands in frustration. "But I just feel so helpless!"

"Just remember that hope…hope is the strength, the fire that keeps us alive through the fearful gloom of night where mists of despair threaten to cloud our hearts. It sees us through to the glowing, sunlight dawn!"

"That's beautiful." Mary Ann said quietly, only somewhat comforted by the analogy.

The actress smiled a bit. "It's from a touching, romantic movie I was in."

"What was the title?"

"The Zombie That Ate Memphis."

--

Mr. Howell was pacing, one hand holding the other behind his back. If he stooped a bit more he would have looked like Groucho Marx. "What is taking that egghead so long? How much time could it take to flip a couple of switches?"

"I'm sure the Professor is trying his best." Mrs. Howell said from her chair at the vanity. "After all, Dear, he still has six hours."

"Lovey, six hours is nothing! That boy is downsizing like a company on its last legs!" A little quieter he added. "If my stock dropped like that I'd die."

_3:25 PM day 2_

The Professor held a ruler up to the tiny coconut. One inch. It was still shrinking. The measurement blurred slightly. He blinked rapidly bringing a hand to the bridge of his nose. He shook his head determinedly and moved over to the desk where lay a scattering of papers filled with mathematical equations. The moment he put pencil to paper what he had been about to write vanished from his mind. He let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. He had to stay awake. Mind over matter. Gilligan's life was at stake.

He scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to expel the cobwebs that were forming in his head. He had been bent over this table and that blasted machine since nearly 8:00 the day before and his body was loudly protesting the lack of rest.

But he couldn't give in. He had not found a solution yet and he didn't seem to be getting any closer. A hollow feeling settled itself in his chest and he felt his throat tighten. He couldn't fail. The price was far too high. Gilligan was counting on him. Everyone was counting on him. Everything was on his shoulders and at the moment he felt that load would break his back. Hot liquid settled in the corners of his eyes but he quickly blinked it back.

He was becoming emotional he realized suddenly. That too was a sign of exhaustion. He needed a stimulant of some kind, coffee perhaps. Anything to keep him alert. He would get up and ask Ginger to make some in a minute.

Leaning forward, propping his forehead in his palm he gazed at the equation on the desk. The image wavered and duplicated itself as his eyes crossed slightly. He closed his eyes and found that they didn't want to open again. His eyelids felt as if they were made of lead and his head felt the same. It didn't matter, he told himself. He couldn't sleep, not now!

He tried to fight it. He fought with every ounce of strength he had. But after an epic battle his body won. Consciousness slipped from his grasp and he was soon fast asleep, pencil in hand and head resting on a jumbled pile of mathematical notes.


	9. A Little Equilibrium

_**9. A Little Equilibrium**_

The Professor awoke with a start, his head snapping up with a small gasp. He had been asleep he realized with a sudden horror. How could he have let this happen? With so much on the line he had allowed his determination to waver and had given in to physical weakness. How long had he slept? A horrible dread crept over him and he knew he had to check the time. What would he do if he was too late?

Glancing down at his watch he let out a breath of relief: _4:10._ He hadn't been asleep long. But still, precious time had been lost. Dwelling on mistakes was counterproductive and he knew it. The logical approach was to learn from them and move on. But he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt knowing that he had been sleeping during such a crisis. He chastised himself for such lack of self-control.

The rest had certainly done him some good. He was still tired but the complete exhaustion that had earlier clouded his mind was gone. With both hands he shuffled through the papers that cluttered the island-made desk, scanning his notes with renewed vigor.

He had to get his mind back on track if he was to stop Gilligan's decent before it was too late. The Professor froze as the thought passed through his head. He turned to look at the machine, then back at his notes. "_Stop_ his decent." He said aloud, hearing the words as well as thinking them. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that before?" He leaped from his chair and immediately began flipping switches.

_4:45 PM day 2_

"Hey, Skipper. Did you know 'ole Abe has a mole?" Gilligan sat, cross-legged on the table in their hut, examining a penny the size of a dinner plate.

The Skipper wasn't really listening. He was staring at his watch. Each tick brought seven o'clock a second closer. And every second the odds of his first mate's survival grew slimmer. It wasn't that he questioned the Professor's intelligence. The Skipper had no doubt that he would find a solution…eventually. The question was, could he do it in two hours. Every moment that went by it grew more likely that the resolution would come too late.

The Skipper swallowed hard. As much as he dreaded it, it was time to tell him. Gilligan had a right to know. "Gilligan…"

"Huh?" He looked up with innocent blue eyes, completely oblivious of the danger he was in.

"Little Buddy…there's…" He felt his voice catch. "There's something I need to tell you."

Gilligan's brows furrowed at the somber tone. He could tell that something was seriously wrong. "What's the matter Skipper?"

"Gilligan I…" He stumbled over his words, not even knowing where to begin. There was so much he wanted to tell his young friend but the weathered sea farer had never been good at expressing his feelings. "You remember when you got that oil well from Mr. Howell?"

"Yeah." Gilligan nodded slowly becoming more worried. He had never seen his captain act like this.

"And I told you that you were like a son to me."

"That's okay Skipper." He gave a small shrug. "Don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean it."

Gilligan's words sent a knife through his conscience. He should never have used something like that to influence Gilligan's judgment. "Well, that's just it, Little Buddy I…I _did_ mean it. At least, I mean it now."

Gilligan's lips parted and his eyes widened in an expression that the Skipper could not quite read. He didn't reply, just stared.

"I know I blow my stack at you sometimes. But the truth is I'm glad to have you as a first mate." The words sounded awkward and somewhat sappy. At this point he didn't care. If the worst did come and he hadn't let Gilligan know just how he felt he would regret it for the rest of his life. "You've stuck by me through stormy seas and fair. You're one in a million, Little Buddy and…" He put a large hand behind Gilligan and rested his thumb on the young man's shoulder. "I couldn't have a better friend."

Gilligan was at a loss. So many emotions stirred inside of him he couldn't even identify them all. He had always admired the Skipper, looked up to him like a father. The captain of the Minnow was the strongest, bravest man he had ever met. To hear him speak with such emotion both moved and confused the first mate. "Gee, Skipper, I…well…I didn't know you felt that way. You're my best friend too." Was all he could think of to say. "But I don't understand. How come you're telling me this now?"

"I might not get another chance."

Gilligan frowned, cocking his head to one side. "Huh?"

He pursed his lips, bracing himself for what he was about to say. "Gilligan, Little Buddy you're shrinking…"

"You think I don't know that?"

"But if you keep shrinking…" But he didn't get any further. The Professor's urgent voice cut him off.

"Skipper, Gilligan, come here!"

"That's the Professor!" The Skipper shouted, leaping to his feet and nearly knocking over the table. Gilligan threw his arms out for balance, but fell on his backside anyway. "Maybe he's finally done it!" The big man hurried for the door.

"Skipper, WAIT!" Gilligan tried to follow but was stopped by the sheer drop at the edge of the table. He looked down and deliberately took a couple steps back, intimidated by a touch of vertigo.

"I'm sorry, Little Buddy." The Skipper said, turning back. "I guess I forgot." He laid his hand palm up on the surface of the table.

Gilligan climbed on and settled himself right in the center of the Skipper's hand. It was quite a comfortable seat, soft and the Skipper's body heat added an odd warmth. He held onto his hat as the Skipper hurried across the compound to the supply hut. The scenery seemed to whip buy as if they were moving really fast. It felt like he was cruising in his uncle's convertible. He wondered if the Skipper moved his hand up and down he'd have his own roller coaster. The thought made him smile.

The supply hut door swung open and the Professor motioned them in with an excited wave.

"Have you done it, Professor?" The Skipper asked anxiously. "Have you figured out how to make him big again?"

The Professor laughed and put a hand on the Skipper's shoulder. "I've been a fool. I can't believe I didn't see it before!" He looked down at the first mate, who was now standing in the captain's hand. "You were right Gilligan. All I needed was a little rest."

"Professor!"

The three of them turned to see Ginger and Mary Ann standing in the doorway and the Howell's peeking through the window.

"We heard you yell." Mary Ann said. "And we thought maybe…"

"Is it good news, Professor?" Mr. Howell interrupted.

The Professor nodded, a smile on his face. "Yes. Very good news."

"So you know how to make him big again?!" The Skipper gestured excitedly with both hands, nearly dropping Gilligan, who yelped and grabbed his thumb.

"No."

The Skipper's shoulders slumped and an air of disappointment passed through the group. "But I thought you had good news."

"I do. As of yet I haven't discovered how to return him to his natural height but I _can_ make him stop shrinking."

A small cheer erupted from the excited castaways, with Gilligan being the loudest of all. "What are we waiting for?" The first mate asked. "If I get any smaller you won't be able to find me."

"Yes, you'll be knee high to a grasshopper." Mr. Howell added. "Now, get _on_ with it, Professor."

The Professor too was eager to get on with the procedure. "Skipper, if you'll just put him on the table."

The captain nodded and lowered his hand so Gilligan could step onto the wooden surface.

Turning to the collection of spectators the Professor said: "This is a very complicated procedure and I would appreciate it if you would temporarily disperse."

Ginger and Mary Ann turned reluctantly. "Tell us when you're done, okay?"

"Thurston, I do believe we're being dismissed." Mrs. Howell said as her husband lead her away, grumbling unintelligibly under his breath.

"Do you want me to leave too, Professor?" The Skipper asked, hesitant to abandon his little buddy.

"No. You can stay. Just come back here." He beckoned the Skipper over and instructed him to stand behind the machine. "I don't want you getting in the way of the beam." He explained, tinkering with the controls.

"How'd you do it, Professor?" Gilligan asked.

The Professor smiled and shook his head. "It was so obvious I can't believe I missed it. You see, I've been trying to create an instantaneous reversal from decrease to increase. It didn't occur to me that I might have to arrest the reduction before I could even make an attempt at renlargement."

Gilligan frowned, looking thoroughly confused. " 'Arrest' it? Did it break the law?"

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, Gilligan. He means that he has to stop you from shrinking before he can try to make you grow again."

"Oh. Well, why didn't he just say so?"

The Professor finished whatever he had been doing to the machine and straightened. "Gilligan, I want you to just stand still, okay."

The first mate nodded. "Okay." He stared at the glass cylinder that topped the odd device. It was pointed straight at him and he felt as if he were staring down the barrel of some futuristic weapon. No matter what he knew it really was it still looked like a laser to him. Getting shot again by that thing was certainly not something he was looking forward to. But he supposed it was better than shrinking.

"Are you ready?" The Professor asked.

"I'm ready." The first mate answered, sounding anything but.

The Professor flipped a switch and the shrink ray began to hum. The sound rose quickly both in volume and pitch. Florescent colors raced back and forth in the transparent cylinder, getting faster with the rising sound.

"I'm not ready!" Gilligan shouted. "I'm not ready!"

Despite Gilligan's protest the device fired. A thin shaft of white light shot out, hitting Gilligan dead center. As it made contact the beam separated into colored strands that swirled around the frightened young man. The same tingling that he had felt before crawled over his body like ants. The beam was gone as quickly as it had appeared but the tingling lingered, joined by a sudden dizziness. He put a hand to his head and wobbled slightly. The world quickly stabilized before he had a chance to fall over.

"Are you alright, Little Buddy?" The Skipper asked

"I'm fine. Just a little dizzy for a second." He looked up at the Professor, who had also approached the table. "Did it work?"

"I don't know yet. Take off your hat and stand straight."

Gilligan did as he was told and the Professor held a ruler up behind him.

"3.8 inches." The Professor said as he wrote the number on the nearest piece of paper. "We'll measure you again in ten minutes and if you aren't any smaller we'll know it worked."

That ten minutes had seemed like an eternity…for everybody. Gilligan sat impatiently on the edge of the fruit bowl in the center of the communal table, his chin in his hands. Both Mr. Howell and the Skipper wore a trail in the sand from pacing, Mary Ann chewed the fingernail on her index finger down to the nub, Ginger's long nails tapped rhythmically on the table. It was quite an annoying sound but everyone was so preoccupied that they scarcely noticed. Mrs. Howell fidgeted with her rings and the Professor simply monitored his watch.

"It's time."

At the Professor's words all motion stopped and it felt as if one could cut the tension with a knife.

"Come here, Gilligan."

The first mate hopped down from the bowl, stood before the Professor and removed his hat. He didn't need to be told to stand straight as the ruler was held up behind him.

There was a moment of dead silence before a large smile broke across the Professor's face. "Exactly 3.8. It worked!"

There was a rousing cheer, Mary Ann applauded, the Skipper snatched off his hat with a flourish and waved it over his head and Mr. Howell raised a fist as if in a toast.

"This calls for a party!" Mary Ann said, rising from the table.

"Oh, boy!" Gilligan clapped his hands together. A party always meant one of Mary Ann's pies.

Mr. Howell rose as well. "I'll break out a bottle of bubbly."

"I love a good party!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed, twiddling her fingers excitedly as she followed her husband. After only a moment she paused, a thoughtful finger at her chin. "What _hors d'oeuvre_s ought one serve at a 'you've stopped shrinking' party?"

"What else? Shrimp." The millionaire quipped instantly. Laughing sharply he slapped his leg. "That was a fast one."

"So Professor," Gilligan looked up at the resident genius. "Now that I'm not shrinking anymore when can you make me big again?"

The Professor smiled just a bit at the boy's eagerness and naivety. "I don't know. The renlargement process seems to have an entirely different set of controls. It will take me a lot of trial and error to achieve the right combination."

"Oh."

Gilligan's disappointment was clear and it urged the Professor to continue. "Even if I'm not able to ascertain a solution the owner of the machine ought to be here any day now and he will surely know how it works."

The first mate's face lit up. "Hey you're right!"

_7:40 PM day 2_

"This tuna casserole really hits the spot!" The Skipper shoveled another bite in his mouth.

Gilligan nodded vigorously, his mouth too full to comment. He sat comfortably on a spool of thread from Mary Ann's sewing kit. One of the Professor's large books served as a perfect table, on top of which sat a bottle cap overflowing with the girl's cooking and a thimble full of guava juice. He took a long swallow to wash down that last bite of lobster. "That's one thing I'm really going to miss when we're rescued."

"Mary Ann's cooking?"

Gilligan thought about it for a second and nodded slowly. "Well, yeah. But I meant free food."

The comment brought a tittering of laughter.

"So Gilligan," Mary Ann asked the little figure on the table. "What's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?"

"Call Mom. I haven't called in four years. She's probably wondering where I am by now."

The young brunette nodded. "Me too. I know my parents are worried sick about me."

"I'm calling my agent." Ginger offered. "So he can book my talk show appearances. After all, the return of Ginger Grant will be big news. What about you Mr. Howell?"

The millionaire frowned into his glass. "Raise the rents." Then he mumbled something about losing four years' inflation.

Mrs. Howell patted her blonde hair. "I'm going directly to Marcel's beauty parlor. Do you realize how long it's been since I've had a proper manicure?"

"Oh, I know!" Ginger agreed, displaying her fingernails as if that was supposed to tell them something.

"How 'bout you, Skipper?" Gilligan asked between bites.

The big man grinned. "I'm going straight to Charlie's Chum Bucket and order me a two inch thick steak…rare! No offense, Mary Ann but I'm dying to have some _real_ meat."

"Carnivore." She said, feigning disgust.

His laugh nearly shook the table. He gave the Professor a slap on the back that nearly sent him face first into his plate. "And you?"

The high school teacher had taken a long rest, shaved and was now looking like his usual clean-cut self. "I'm going to publish my paper on the effects of social microcosm."

Six faces stared blankly at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, smiling to himself as if amused by some personal joke.

After a moment of confused silence it was Mary Ann who spoke up. "Well, I hope you all saved room for dessert." She said as she rose from the table.

"You bet!" Gilligan said eagerly.

She came back moments later carrying a large pie. She set it not far from the little first mate. "It's your favorite. Coconut crème."

Gilligan rose slowly from his seat, a look of open-mouthed reverence on his young face. With humble steps he approached the gigantic pastry. The pie plate reached his waist but the filling and whipped cream rose at least an inch above his head. "I dreamed about this once." He inhaled deeply taking in the sweet aroma that filled the night air. In the intoxication of such a dream come true he leaned back against the Skipper's bamboo glass. It was about a quarter full and was not heavy enough to hold him. Both Gilligan and the cup toppled over and deep crimson berry juice splashed all over the Skipper's lap.

The captain jumped out of his chair. "Gilligan, you numbskull! These are the only pants I've got!" His hand automatically went to his hat, ready to give his first mate a sound smack. Gilligan saw the movement and his eyes and he threw both arms over his head, preparing for impact.

The Professor through out a halting hand. "Skipper, no!"

The Skipper's fingers touched the brim of his hat and stopped, realizing just what a blow like that could do to his greatly diminished little buddy. He settled with a verbal scolding. "Gilligan, you're a walking disaster. Just sit down before you ruin anything else."

Gilligan opened his mouth to protest but the Skipper didn't let him begin. "Siddown!"

The booming order hurt his ears and Gilligan obeyed instantly, dropping to the tabletop. He scooted back a little so he could use the handle of the Skipper's fork as a seat. It wasn't very comfortable but it worked.

"Good." The Captain nodded in approval. "Now just stay there." In a gesture to punctuate the order he slapped a hand down. Unfortunately it landed on the tongs of the very fork Gilligan was sitting on. There was a scream as a flailing blur of red and blue was catapulted into the air, arcing above the castaway's heads. A loud 'splat' sent whipped crème flying in all directions. After getting over the surprise of flying dessert the group leaned forward expectantly. A perfect Gilligan-shaped hole had appeared in the center of Mary Ann's pie.

After only a moment Gilligan's head and shoulders popped above the impact crater. Coconut crème filling covered every inch of him making him look like a miniaturized Yeti. He ran his hands down his face, trying to wipe holes for his eyes.

"Are you alright, Gilligan?" Mary Ann asked, sounding quite worried.

Gilligan flicked his hands, trying to remove as much of the sticky gunk as possible. "You know, Mary Ann, your pies are great. But I think I like 'em better on the inside than the outside."

"Sorry about that. It was strictly an accident." The Skipper reached over and pinched the back of Gilligan's shirt. The first mate gasped in surprise as he was lifted up and out of the ruined pie. He set him lightly on the table. Through all that crème filling it was hard to read his Gilligan's expression but he could tell that his friend was not happy. "What's the matter?"

Gilligan was quiet for a moment as if he didn't quite know how to say it. "Don't pick me up like that. I really don't like seeing my feet with nothing under them."

"Sorry." Now that he thought about it the Skipper could imagine it would be not only disconcerting but a bit embarrassing to be picked up by the scruff like a kitten. "We better get you cleaned up."

"Yeah," Gilligan looked down at himself, still trying to wipe the sugary froth off his clothes. "I'm done with dessert anyway."

_9:00 PM day 2_

A candle flickered brightly in the center of the small card table in the sailor's hut. Just beside the primitive illumination was a large soup bowl half filled with water. Immersed contentedly in the steaming liquid Gilligan scrubbed a shoulder with a small strip of flannel. He peeked over the brim of the bowl to look at the Skipper, who was rummaging around in the closet, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Hey, Skipper, do you realize how long it's been since I've had a real hot bath?"

"Four years." He said rather absently.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"Gilligan, I was shipwrecked at the same time as you. Or have you forgotten?" The Skipper found a large matchbox and set it on the table.

"It sure is easier to warm up a bowl full of water than a whole tub full, huh?"

There was a knock on the hut door.

"Who is it?!" Gilligan shouted, ducking as low as he could into the bowl, terrified that it might be one of the girls.

"Mary Ann." Came the answer.

"Go away!" He reached one hand out and snatched the handkerchief from off the table, keeping the rest of him hidden inside.

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven sake, Gilligan. She can't see you in there." With that he stepped over to the window.

"Gilligan's clothes are dry. And here are those things you wanted."

"Thanks."

"Sorry but your pants aren't done yet. I'm sure they'll be dry by morning." After a short pause she added. "What's wrong with Gilligan? He sounded upset."

"Lady Godiva in there is just bashful."

"Oh. Well, goodnight." A little louder she said. "Goodnight, Gilligan."

"Goodnight!" He shouted at the door. The large red handkerchief was wrapped tightly around him, just in case she happened to pop in unexpectedly. It was really way too big for a towel, larger even than his grandma's king sized quilts.

The Skipper turned back, carrying Gilligan's red shirt and bellbottoms pinched between his fingers. In the other hand was an odd assortment of fabric. He set Gilligan's clothes beside him and the other items next to the matchbox.

"What's all that junk for?" Gilligan asked as he pulled on his pants.

"Your bed." The Skipper started folding what looked like one of Ginger's scarf's.

"Huh? You mean I can't sleep in my own hammock?" He paused, his shirt only halfway on.

The big man sighed. "Are you kidding? You'd fall right through the netting."

_10:00 PM day 2_

Gilligan lay quietly in his tiny makeshift bed…thinking. The large matchbox was the perfect size for him. Ginger's cotton scarf, folded beneath him made a comfortable mattress. Mr. Howell's silk handkerchief, folded over once, was warm and he could never have imagined sleeping under something so soft. Mary Ann's pincushion was a perfect pillow. Gilligan didn't think he had ever been in a more comfortable bed, not even when he was living at home.

The bath had been great. He had soaked in it for a good ten minutes until his fingers were wrinkled. Dinner too had been excellent. He had eaten as much as he wanted and nobody gotten onto him for being a pig.

Maybe being small wasn't as bad as he thought.


	10. Just Too Small

_**10. Just Too Small**_

_7:30 AM day 3_

Starker's large frame sat in a little chair in the wheelhouse of the small boat. He looked a little green and held a paper bag in his hand, should he throw up again. "Seigfried, I vas just thinking."

His comrade stood at the wheel, looking out at the watery horizon. "Bad idea."

"How vill ve know when ve found ze machine? Ve don't know vhat it looks like."

Seigfried rolled his eyes. "Dumkoff, ve have this." He pointed to a monitor beside the compass. "Zat blinking light is the machine. Besides how many boxes are there in the middle of the Pacific zat have 'Property of KAOS' stamped on the side?"

"How much longer until ve get zere? I don't zink my stomach can handle much more." He held a hand over his midsection and moaned a little.

"Starker, zis is KAOS." He began with mock pleasantness. But his demeanor switched instantly with his next words. "Ve don't _whine_ here!" After a moment of silence he added. "The machine is not moving so I assume it's run aground somewhere. Ve ought to be there zis afternoon."

Starker sighed miserably. "Zat's a long time. Ve could always sing vun hundred bottles of beer on ze vall to pass the time."

Seigfried tapped an impatient hand on the wheel and gave him a withering look.

Starker slumped a little more. "Sorry. I forgot. Ve don't sing here either."

_9:10 AM day 3_

Consciousness slowly wafted into Gilligan's mind. His internal alarm clock and the light he could sense behind closed lids told him that he had already overslept. He wondered groggily why the Skipper wasn't yelling at him yet. Usually by this time the captain was all over him, hollering things like; 'Quit being such a lazy bum and get your carcass out of bed.'

"Coming, Skipper." He mumbled to the voice that he only heard in his head. He tried to roll out of his hammock but there seemed to be something blocking him. Finally he opened his eyes and his brows immediately furrowed in confusion. Something wasn't right. This wasn't his hammock. As he sat up and looked around him the events of the last two days settled into place: the machine, shrinking, Gladys, Mary Ann's pie. He was going to have to write all this down in his diary when he was big enough to hold a pencil again.

"Hey, Skipper!" He called as he threw off the 'covers' and stepped out of his matchbox bed. There was no answer and Gilligan could see now that the Skipper's hammock was empty. "Where'd he go?" He made a move to go outside to search but after only a few steps reached the edge of the table. Pushing his hat back he scratched his head in frustration. "How am I gonna get off here?" That's when he spotted the chair. It was scooted right up against the table. With only a small hop he landed on the back of it. Both the back and the seat were covered with a thick padding of grass to make the chair more comfortable to sit in. But for Gilligan the long blades made a perfect means of descent. It was like climbing down a wall of stiff, thick, green ribbons. The grass skirting around the bottom stopped several inches from the ground. When he reached the end Gilligan let go and dropped to the sand. Without a look behind him he headed for the door.

As he strolled outside he couldn't help but be awed and intimidated by his surroundings. The huts towered above him like green skyscrapers and were as long as city blocks. To his right the sand seemed to stretch on like the Sahara with one mountain-like table in the center.

There was a sudden rustling to his left. He whirled around to see the grass of the hut moving. Swallowing hard he backed up slowly, his mind making up all kinds of huge terrifying monsters. He yelped in surprise as a black beetle the size of a cat emerged and skittered across the sand. Relaxing a bit he stepped closer for a better look. "Hey there." Its size was a bit unnerving but the insect didn't really scare him. He'd played with beetles all his life, even sneaking them into school on occasion to keep himself occupied during those boring history lectures. But he had never seen one in such detail. Before, they hadn't looked like much more than a shiny black speck with legs. Now he could see the grooves in the shell, the tiny hairs on the legs and the odd-looking compound eyes; like a million tiny marbles glued together in a sphere. He didn't get a long look for the insect quickly scampered away, leaving a line of little tracks in its wake.

He continued on, enjoying this enlightening morning walk until he reached the supply hut. Easily slipping through the bamboo bars that made up the door he started over toward the desk where the Professor sat. He had a pencil in hand and appeared to be studying some papers.

Document in hand the Professor stood turned toward the door. On his second step things happened rather quickly. A small scream sounded from below him. Startled by the sound he looked down to see Gilligan directly in the path of his descending foot. He tried to stop mid-stride and raise his foot back up, but the momentum sent him tumbling backwards, slamming into the desk. Both the Professor and the desk hit the ground hard, sending notes fluttering in all directions.

Gilligan ran over to where the Professor was now sitting in the sand, looking at the mess and shaking his head.

"You alright, Professor?"

"Gilligan," He said with an irritated sigh as the tiny first mate stood beside him, looking up worriedly. "You need to watch where you're going."

"Me?" Gilligan said defensively. "_You_ were the one who almost stepped on _me_!"

"I apologize." He said, as he stood and righted the desk. "But people are unaccustomed to looking down when they walk. You need to announce your presence."

Gilligan nodded. "Okay, Professor." Being flat as a pancake wasn't his idea of fun. "Oh, hey." He said, remembering why he had come here in the first place. "Have you seen the Skipper?"

"He's down at the lagoon, checking the lobster traps." The Professor picked up a handful of paper and set it back on the desk.

Gilligan frowned a little. Before he could open his mouth the Professor continued.

"You had a difficult day yesterday and he decided to let you sleep in."

This was the second day in a row that the Skipper had done that job for him. Which to Gilligan just seemed odd. "Maybe I'd better go help him."

"Gilligan…"

"What?"

"Those lobsters are this big." The Professor held his hands about a foot and a half apart, which to Gilligan was about as long as a limo.

"On the other hand, maybe I'd better not." He said hesitantly, scenes from the movie 'Pincers' flashing through his mind.

--

The Skipper had just finished putting this morning's catch in one of the large water barrels which they now tried to keep stocked with either crab or lobster. It was easier for the girls to cook what was immediately on hand instead of calling one of the guys, usually Gilligan, to go check the traps before every meal.

He'd been out all morning and decided that it was time to check in on Gilligan. "Little Buddy, you awake?" He asked softly as he stepped into the hut. Mr. Howell's handkerchief was pulled back and he could see that the little matchbox was empty. In fact Gilligan wasn't even on the table. "Gilligan?" He said a bit louder as he scanned the room for a spot of red and blue.

"Where are y—" His words were cut short as he both heard and felt a crunch under his right foot. The Skipper's face turned ashen. "Oh, no. _Gilligan!_"

It felt as if his heart had stopped. Not wanting to look but knowing that he had to he held his breath and slowly raised his foot. His body relaxed and he almost laughed in relief. There, half buried in the sand were shards from a crushed shell. Gilligan was always picking up shells from the beach and adding them to his collection. He must have dropped this one.

Well, now that he knew he hadn't killed him where was Gilligan?

"Hey, Professor, have you seen Gilligan?" The Skipper asked as he entered the supply hut.

The Professor looked up but it was the little figure on the table that spoke up. "I'm right here, Skipper."

The irate captain stormed up to his little first mate, who sat on the edge of the table in the midst of the Professor's notes. "What do you mean running off like that?"

Gilligan's face scrunched, in both defense and puzzlement. " 'Running off'? All I did was walk over here. What did you want me to do, leave you a note?"

"Well at least I would know where you were." The Skipper shot back.

"You've never cared where I was before, unless you wanted me to do something."

"You've never been four inches high before. You could get into a lot of trouble."

"Speaking of which." The Professor spoke up. "Somebody needs to keep an eye on him. He came in here unannounced and I nearly stepped on him."

Gilligan frowned, somewhat put off by the remark. He was an adult and he certainly didn't need a babysitter. "Hey, listen, I can take care of myself."

The next thing he knew he was being set down on the table where Mary Ann was making breakfast. "But Skipper…"

The captain stabbed an insistent finger at him. "Now you just stay here. I've got to bring some water up from the spring." With that he headed off down the jungle path.

"That's my…" Gilligan's shoulders slumped and he finished with a sigh: "…job." It wasn't that the first mate was particularly fond of the many chores he had on the island. But something really bothered him about the Skipper's suddenly taking over his duties.

"How are you this morning?" Mary Ann asked. She sat by the table, stirring a large bowl of batter.

Gilligan weaved past several large pieces of fruit to the edge of the table, where he could talk to her better. He gave a little shrug. "Alright, I guess."

"What do you think?" She held up a wooden spoon covered with dripping yellow goo.

He dipped a finger in and quickly stuck it in his mouth. Nodding thoughtfully he said: "Pretty good. But needs a little more sugar."

She picked up a half gourd filled with cane sugar and dumped a little into the bowl. "That's what I thought. It's a new recipe. I hope it'll be done before lunch."

"You're cooking lunch before breakfast?"

"Oh, we already had breakfast."

Gilligan's jaw dropped. He looked both hurt and shocked. "And nobody told _me_?"

"Well, we thought that after everything that's happened you'd like to sleep in." She reached over somewhere behind him and picked up that same little bottle cap he had used as a plate the night before. In the morning light Gilligan now recognized it as the one from the Skipper's sea chest. It was from the first beer bottle his big buddy had opened with his teeth. It was overflowing with crab and daintily diced fruit. "This is for you."

Well, as long as he got breakfast he supposed it was okay. "Thanks, I'm starved."

She smiled. Gilligan always seemed to be hungry. She liked cooking for him because he enjoyed food so much and was always appreciative.

His breakfast didn't last long at all and soon he set the empty bottle cap down with a satisfied sigh. "That was great!" He stood and looked around the table at all the ingredients she had lined up for lunch. "I can help. What do you want me to do?" Gilligan asked.

"Sure. Thanks Gilligan. You could…" She started to point but stopped as she realized he was too small to pick up the knife. "…or maybe…" She frowned a bit as she realized that wouldn't work either. "…Well, you could always…No I guess you couldn't." After a second of confusion she just smiled. "I've really got everything under control. Why don't you just keep me company, okay?"

He sat down, slouching a little, with both legs dangling over the edge of the table. "Sure." He let out a small breath that said he wasn't satisfied just sitting there.

Mary Ann recognized the sound and bit her lip, wondering what she could do to make him feel better. "You know, Gilligan, I don't need any help. But Ginger does."

He perked up a little. "Yeah?"

"She's over there, rehearsing a play." Mary Ann pointed to the other side of the clearing where they could see the movie star sitting in one of the lounge chairs, talking to herself. "She said she needed someone to play the other part."

"Hey, yeah!" Gilligan rose to his feet. "I could do that."

"Do you want me to take you over there?" She asked, trying to be helpful.

The first mate's forehead puckered in a tiny frown. "I can do it myself." He walked to the edge of the table and began walking the rim, looking for some means of decent. But he went full circle and found nothing. His mouth twitched sheepishly to one side. "Well, maybe you could put me on the ground."

She managed to hide an amused smile as she set her hand on the table, palm up, just as the Skipper had done.

Gilligan stared at it for a moment, feeling a bit awkward. She was a girl after all. But after a bit of thought he shrugged and climbed on, deciding that hands were hands and it didn't make much difference. "Just don't drop me." He said nervously. She wasn't the Skipper and he wasn't sure he trusted her as much.

Slowly and smoothly she lowered her hand to the sand and the tiny first mate stepped off. "Thanks." He said over his shoulder as he started off toward the other side of the clearing.

It took him a little under ten minutes to reach the lounge chair where Ginger was talking to herself.

"Oh, Tony don't leave. Please. You'll be killed you if you go!" Her voice sounded as desperate as her words and her arms reached out to an invisible leading man. After a moment of pause she turned her head as if ashamed by words that only she could hear. "No, Tony. It's not your duty. I need you more!"

Gilligan stared straight up at the colossal actress that towered so high above his head. At this angle he saw more of her armpit than her face. He tilted his head a little so he could see her better. "Hey, Ginger."

She jumped a little at the unexpected voice. Looking down she smiled as she saw Gilligan. "Hi, Gilligan. I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, I've been getting that a lot today." He mumbled, to quiet for her to hear. Aloud he said: "Mary Ann said that you needed help rehearsing a play or something."

She tried to suppress a giggle but failed. "I don't think you can help me with this one, Gilligan. You couldn't put your arms around my wrist let alone my waist."

"Oh." Was all he said, both relieved that he didn't have to do a love scene with Ginger and more than a bit depressed by being told he was too small again.

"Top of the morning, Ginger." Mr. Howell said as he towered into view. "Marvelous day to take a jaunt down to the old green." He had his island made golf bag and clubs slung over his shoulder. With a polite nod to the movie star and not even an acknowledgement of Gilligan's presence he headed into the jungle.

"Hey, wait!" Gilligan called, deciding suddenly to follow him. He ran hard for what seemed like forever and he only caught up because Mr. Howell had stopped to adjust the strap on his bag. "Hey, Mr. Howell!" He yelled, between gasps of breath, staggering to a stop.

The millionaire looked down in surprise. "Why, Gilligan, my boy, I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, it figures." Gilligan said under his breath, getting tired of hearing those words. "I was just wondering if you needed a caddy."

"Caddy?" He gave a loud laugh. "My dear, dear boy. You couldn't even carry the ball!" The rich man shook his head and started walking away, still snickering to himself. "Of course you could always have a go at being the tee."

Gilligan just watched as Mr. Howell disappeared into the foliage. His head bowed and shoulders slumped he turned back and suddenly realized that he didn't know which way to go. He had followed Mr. Howell into the jungle where fallen leaves covered the ground and shoes left no footprints to follow. Tuning in a circle he stared up at the ferns and bushes that towered so high above his head. There was no trail to follow, no indication of which direction camp might be. A horrible fear crept over him and he knew he was lost.


	11. Lost

_**11. Lost**_

_10:00 AM day 3_

"Skipperrrr! Professor! Mary Ann! ANYBODY!!" Only the cry of a jungle bird answered Gilligan's calls.

Stems and stalks shot from the ground, arcing over his head to create a ceiling of huge luxuriant leaves and ferns. The thick foliage blocked most of the sun's rays and only small patches of light actually reached the ground. Dark green corridors stretched forever in every direction. It was like trying to navigate a natural maze. At first he had thought he was heading toward camp but now he was sure he had gone the wrong way.

The Skipper had once told him that if he was lost he should stay put and wait until someone found him. But how could anyone ever find him when he was so small? He hugged himself and shivered a little.

Usually he didn't mind being a little lost. The island wasn't that big and he knew he could always follow the beach back to the lagoon. But now, he didn't even know how to get to the beach, or even if he could. The sounds of the jungle were no longer pleasant and calming. Every breaking twig or rustling leaf made him jump.

He kept walking, hoping that by some miracle he would come across one of his friends or stumble into the clearing. As he walked a slight whine, a very high pitched 'eeeeee' reached his ears. "Hello?" His wide blue eyes searched the thick wilderness around him and saw nothing but green. "Is anybody there?" Swallowing hard he walked a bit faster. The sound quickly grew in volume and he wanted to run but he couldn't even tell where it was coming from. Then suddenly he felt a slight weight on his back, just behind his shoulder, and at the exact same instant there was a sharp pain, like someone had jabbed him with a needle.

He screamed and bolted, running and trying to swat at the thing on his back simultaneously. The weight lifted and the whine returned, louder than ever. There was a slight rush of air as the whining thing zipped past his ear. Then suddenly there it was in front of him. His sneakers skidded on the carpet of leaves as he backpedaled, trying to instantaneously reverse direction. He hadn't even completed the turn when a stray shoelace sent him tumbling onto his back.

A creature about the size of a sparrow hovered above him on small transparent wings. Long, spindly legs dangled from its insectoid body, and two feathery antennae waved in the breeze. But the most frightening thing was the long, sharp proboscis that protruded from between two black spherical eyes. It took him a moment to recognize the creature as the vampire of the insect world…a mosquito.

"Aaaaah!" He scrambled backwards as it hovered in closer. It may have been small, even in comparison to him but it was just about the scariest thing he had ever laid eyes on. And he knew it had just given him a nasty bite. He turned, leaped to his feet and ran. But he had only taken a few steps before the mosquito was in front of him again. Every direction he would turn the little creature would fly ahead and block his path. It was just faster than him. He was blocked on all sides by one creepy little bug.

"Listen," He backed up slowly as the creature advanced. "You don't want to drink my blood. Really. I drink a lot so it's probably all watered down." His heel caught on something and he nearly fell over. He allowed himself a quick glance down to see a stick, about as big around as his arm. An idea hit him and he reached down slowly, still watching the menacing little thing come closer. "And back home, when my doctor tried to give me a shot he said my veins were hard to find. It'd be too much trouble." His fingers tightened around the stick and he brought it up behind his back. "Besides, I'm so little you wouldn't get a decent meal out of me anyway. Why don't you go pick on somebody who's got some to spare?" With that he swung with all his might, wielding the stick like a baseball bat. The mosquito easily dodged the blow and began flying around him in dizzying circles. Gilligan tried hard to keep his eye on the attacker but it was simply impossible. It seemed to be everywhere at once. But he kept at it, one blind swing after another, until he felt his arms would give out.

Then there was a 'crack' as he felt it hit home. The blow sent the creature arcing away like a fly ball until it disappeared into a large patch of moss. Gilligan just stood there, panting, expecting it to rise back up and come at him again. But as he brought the stick up he realized it wasn't coming back. There, just in the middle of his makeshift weapon, amidst some sticky goo, was a wing, a hairy leg and a couple other unidentifiable insect parts. He shuddered and dropped it in disgust.

Once again he started walking, even more cautiously now, hoping to come across something that he knew, something that would point him in the direction of camp. But nothing was familiar, and as he wandered he realized that any landmarks that he might have known before would look so different that he wouldn't even recognize them.

His only hope was either for someone to happen by and hear him or for him to accidentally stumble upon camp. And the more he walked the less likely either option seemed. "Skipperrrr! Somebody? Help!"

He tried to bring both hands up to cup around his mouth, hoping the sound would carry farther. But he suddenly stopped and winced. The whole right side of his back, where the mosquito had bit him was both tender and itched like crazy. Every time he moved his right arm the muscles around his shoulder blade protested strongly. Try as he might he couldn't reach that far back to either scratch or rub the spot.

With a sigh of both despair and frustration he flopped down onto a thick twig that was more like a large log compared to him. "What am I going to do?" He asked no one in particular.

There came a reply but it was not something he wanted to hear. There was a loud 'hiss', like the sound of air being let out of a tire and the log beneath him began to move. He leaped up with a yelp as if his seat had been hot. A huge, triangular head rose high above him on a long thin neck. His heart nearly stopped as he realized that what he had just been sitting on was not a stick but a… "SNAKE!" He couldn't help but scream and point. A huge orange and black tongue flicked out of the Cadillac sized head, tasting the air and no doubt Gilligan as well. Before the creature had a chance to strike Gilligan was already running full tilt in the opposite direction. He could hear the dragon sized serpent taking up pursuit, it's scales brushing against the carpet of leaves as it slithered through the undergrowth. It was right on him, he just knew it.

Gilligan turned his head a bit to look over his shoulder to check his pursuer's progress and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back, the entire world fading in and out of focus and a sharp pain in his temple. He shook his head to clear it, realizing almost instantly that he had run into a low hanging twig.

A long S-shaped silhouette loomed into his vision and he gasped as he remembered the snake. He screamed and automatically threw both hands up as if that would protect him from his imminent doom. Then there was another scream much louder than Gilligan's and a shadow engulfed both predator and prey. Giant wings beat the air as razor sharp talons came down upon the snake's midsection. The reptile gave an angry hiss and struck in retaliation, it's coils writhing around the bird's legs. Gilligan clambered back as the hawk's hook like beak pecked and squawked at the struggling snake.

He turned from the battle and ran. Just ahead was a log. A real one, the size of his entire school back home in Pennsylvania. His heart rose and he ran faster as he saw an opening beneath the log, a space just big enough for him. He dove straight under scrambling as far back as he could into the recess. It was dark and damp, smelling strongly of earth and rotting wood. There was just barely enough room for him to sit up. Through the thin crack of an opening he watched as the hawk and snake struggled, wings flapping and coils thrashing. Finally the snake went limp and the Godzilla sized bird flew off with its latest prize dangling from its claws.

Gilligan didn't come out. He huddled in the back of the tiny crevasse, hugging his knees. His blue eyes were wide, staring straight ahead, his entire body shook uncontrollably and his breath came in quick gasps. The jungle was no longer his friend, a pleasant place to take an evening stroll. Now it was dark and sinister; an immense maze inhabited by horrors from his worst nightmares. Danger lurked around every corner, behind every object. He could never be safe again.

"Skipper…where are you?" He asked in a trembling whisper.

_11:50 AM day 3_

The Skipper started into the jungle but was halted by Mary Ann's voice.

"Where are you going?" The young brunette tilted her head as she approached.

"To get some more bamboo poles." He hooked a thumb towards the forest behind him. "One of the walls in the supply hut needs fixing."

"If were going to be rescued soon what's the use in fixing the huts?"

The Skipper chortled. "You know, you're right. I guess old habits die hard."

She laughed too. "I was going to tell you not to go anywhere anyway. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes."

"Oh, say. How's Gilligan? Did he give you any trouble?"

Mary Ann shook her head. "He seemed a little listless this morning. But I haven't seen him for a while. He's with Ginger."

As if taking a cue the movie star stepped up behind them. "Is lunch ready yet."

"Almost." Mary Ann said, sounding slightly perturbed. After all Ginger had been supposed to help her. "Where's Gilligan?"

Ginger shrugged her bare shoulders as if she couldn't care less. "How should I know? The last time I saw him he was with Mr. Howell."

Just then the millionaire stepped out of his hut with his wife at his arm. The Skipper waved them over.

"Is Gilligan with you?"

"Heavens no! I never associate with the _lower_ class." The rich man laughed at his own joke but stopped mid-chuckle at the Skipper's withering look. "But seriously, Captain I haven't seen the lad for hours. Not that there's really much to see." He couldn't help but add.

"Maybe he's with the Professor." Mary Ann suggested hopefully.

The Skipper shook his head already getting a bit concerned. "I don't think so."

"Well, he couldn't have gone far." Ginger added. "He's got to be around here somewhere." So saying the movie star took a peek under the table.

The Skipper nodded, hoping that she was right and his little buddy hadn't been carried off again by some native animal. "If he's close by maybe he'll hear if we call him." He cupped a hand over his mouth. "Gilligaaaan!"

The others quickly followed suit, shouting the first mate's name and searching any place that he could possibly be hiding, such as inside the fruit bowl and under the lounge chair.

_11:55 AM day 3_

Inside the log Gilligan sat pressed up against the back of the little hole, arms wrapped around his legs so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He wondered how long it would take to starve to death because he had no intention of ever leaving the dark sanctuary.

The sound of voices made him sit up straight. They were calling him. His heart jumped in his and just as quickly he leaped out into the open, all thoughts of lurking dangers instantly wiped from his mind. "I'm coming! Keep yelling. I'm coming!" He ran in the direction of the voices, his legs pumping as hard as he could possibly push them, bounding over pebbles and ducking under twigs. Twice he tripped and fell but he jumped right back up and kept going, knowing his life depended on it.

Finally the dark foliage over his head disappeared and he burst out into the sunlight. Straight ahead was a forest of legs and shoes. "Skipper!" He cried, running for the pair of blue sneakers topped by white trousers.

"Look!" Mary Ann's voice exclaimed as she pointed to the little figure sprinting in their direction.

"There you are!" The Skipper asked lowering a hand, which Gilligan leaped onto as if it were a life raft.

The captain brought his hand and his little first mate up to eye level. "Where in the seven seas have you been? How many times do I have to tell you not to wander off?!"

"Oh, Skipper, it was awful!" Gilligan instantly went into hyperactive narration mode. "I was walking along, just walking along when suddenly 'eeeeee'!" He mimicked the mosquito's high pitched whine while his hand flailed in the air, copying the insect's erratic flight pattern. "And then it bit me, Skipper. It _bit_ me! So I started swinging." He held his fists together like they gripped an invisible stick. "I swung and swung and swung!" With each word he whipped his arms around, narrowly missing his now non-existent assailant. "And then I hit it!" He clapped his hands loudly. "But that's not all! Then I sat down on a…" He made some incomprehensible gesture. "And it came alive! It was huge with…" He hissed and struck the air with two curved fingers. "I ran. I must have been going like eighty but then I fell." He demonstrated, kicking his legs out from under him and landing on his backside. Quickly he leaped back up. "It was coming closer and closer. I knew I was done for. And _then_…BRAWK!" He flapped his arms then brought his hands together, making them squawk and hiss at each other. With Gilligan's high-speed storytelling the entire account had taken about six seconds.

"Gilligan! Gilligan. Calm down, Little Buddy." The Skipper urged, having caught only a small fraction of Gilligan's story and understanding none of it.

"I was so scared." The young man's voice slowed and quieted. "I thought I was going to be lost out there forever."

As the Skipper looked down at his tiny friend he realized that Gilligan could easily have been hopelessly lost and it was a miracle that they had found him at all. It was obvious that he was going to have to make some restrictions. "Little Buddy, I hate to do this to you. But from now until you are your natural height I want you to stay within sight of one of us."

Gilligan's jaw dropped. "But Skipper!" He threw both hands out and instantly wished he hadn't. "Ow!" A hand instantly went to his shoulder. His wild narration had managed to compound the pain in his back.

"What's wrong, Gilligan?" Mary Ann was the first to be concerned.

"I told you. It bit me."

"What bit you?" The Skipper asked in complete confusion.

Gilligan frowned at the question, looking both hurt and a bit annoyed. "Weren't you listening?"


	12. Hard Knock Life

_**12. Hard Knock Life**_

_12:10 PM day 3_

Lunch had been temporarily delayed to allow for treatment of Gilligan's insect bite. And the young man stood, for the second time in so many days, on the table in the supply hut…shirtless. He felt no better about it than he had the first time.

"Ow!" Gilligan's whole body flinched as the Professor touched the large welt on his back. It was about as big around as the first mate's fist and was a deep shade of pink.

"Did that hurt?"

"And how! Your hands are cold too. It's like being poked in the back by one of those iron torpedoes."

"I apologize, Gilligan. But it's difficult to perform a proper examination when…" The Professor's voice trailed off.

"Go ahead and say it 'when I'm so small'." Gilligan let out a resigned sigh. After a moment of silence he spoke up again. "I don't understand. I've gotten mosquito bites before and they never felt like this. Just itched a little."

"That's because the proboscis managed to pierce muscle as well as your skin. And I'm afraid the toxin ratio compared to your body size is much greater than normal."

"Toxins?" The Skipper asked, instantly concerned. Up until that point he had not been particularly worried since it was only a little mosquito bite after all, but that one word sent a slight chill through him.

"The saliva in the creature serves as an anticoagulant, allowing it to circumvent the typical physiological responses. It affects vascular constriction, blood clotting, platelet aggregation and angiogenesis." The Professor moved to a shelf in the back of the hut to pick up a container made from a small slice of bamboo.

The Skipper found both his anxiety and confusion growing. Big medical words like that could not mean anything good.

"Wow." Gilligan said, both impressed and completely oblivious. "Who knew a little bug could have such a big vocabulary."

"But, what does it mean?" The Skipper asked anxiously, not even venturing a guess. "Is it dangerous?"

"I'm not overly concerned. The only way it could be a problem is if he gets a cut or something before the affect completely wears off. It may be difficult to control any bleeding."

"Gilligan," The Skipper shook his head. "How do you keep getting in all these messes? I wouldn't think such a little guy could get into so much trouble."

"It's not my fault, Skipper. I was just walking along, minding my own business when he attacked me."

"She."

Both captain and crew turned to the Professor in confusion. "What?"

"The mosquito that bit you. It was a female."

Gilligan's face scrunched in confusion. "I don't remember you being there." A second thought brought even more bewilderment. "How'd you know it was a girl? I mean, it wasn't wearing a skirt or anything."

The Skipper managed to look just as confused as his first mate. "I have to say, I'm with Gilligan on this one."

"Only the female of the species is hematophagous."

"Hema-tofu-what-amus?" Gilligan looked as if the word had left a particularly odd taste in his mouth.

"Hematophagous." The Professor repeated then proceeded to explain. "It means blood drinker. Only female mosquitoes drink blood."

"Why didn't you just say so?"

Ignoring the comment, the Professor opened the little island-made container to reveal a greenish colored cream.

"What is that stuff?" Gilligan asked, standing on his tiptoes to peek into the container. "It smells like grass and crayons."

"It's a liniment for insect bites. My own formula, made from ingredients here on the island." He smiled, looking rather proud of the concoction. "I developed it not long after our encounter with the mantis swarm." He scooped a small amount onto the tip of his finger then motioned for Gilligan to turn around.

"You gonna put that stuff on my back? Because I can't reach. Believe me. I've tried." He demonstrated, stretching an arm as far back as he could. A shiver ran up his spine as the cold substance touched his back. But he quickly relaxed as he felt it beginning to work. The Professor's touch still smarted but as the cream began to soak in the pain began to subside. "It feels better already."

"It should help some." The Professor put the lid on the container and placed it back on the shelf. "It is both an anti itch salve and an anti inflammatory."

"You mean it'll keep me from catching fire?"

The Professor managed to hide a smirk. Gilligan's misinterpretations never ceased to amuse him.

_12:30 PM day 3_

Gilligan sat on the table, perched comfortably on his spool-chair, thoroughly enjoying another one of Mary Ann's delicious meals. The first mate's little dining arrangement sat not far from the Skipper's plate. His back felt much better thanks to the ointment the Professor had made. It no longer itched and the pain had subsided to a slight ache.

The conversation was upbeat and there was an air of excited anticipation. The castaways knew that every moment that passed their rescuers grew nearer. And that's where the topic of conversation always seemed to turn.

"…and when we get back…" Mr. Howell was saying with gusto. "We'll throw a grand old coming home party with champagne, dancing and…" He turned to his wife. "We ought to see if that Lawrence Welk bunch is available for the entertainment." Once again addressing his fellow castaways he continued. "Everyone who's anyone will be invited. All of you will be the guests of honor, of course." Lifting his glass he toasted the ulikely bunch of commoners who had become his friends.

"Us, Mr. Howell?" Ginger's eyes sparkled with the thought of rubbing elbows with the social elite.

Mrs. Howell looked thoughtful for a moment. "I do believe we ought to use our house in Newport. The one with the _big_ ballroom and the table that seats two hundred."

"Yes, we'll have a dinner fit for a king. And believe me there won't be a coconut, pineapple or banana on the table!"

That brought a good laugh from the rest of the table.

"Oh!" Mrs. Howell squeaked as if she had just been reminded of something. "Gilligan, would you be a dear and pass the pineapple jelly?"

"Uhh…" Caught off guard by the request, Gilligan just stared at the bowl that sat a few inches to his right. The rim was waist-high and about as big around as a backyard wading pool. He made a move to rise. "I can try."

"Never mind, Gilligan." With one hand the Skipper picked the bowl up and handed it across to the heiress.

"_Lovey_." Mr. Howell scolded quietly but still loud enough for everyone to hear. "You know the boy can't lift that."

"Well, I just thought that since he was the closest…"

A grin lit Ginger's face. "That reminds me of a joke I heard about a midget who walked into a bar—"

"_Ginger_!" Mary Ann backhanded her in the shoulder.

"What?" The movie star's eyes widened and she offered an apologetic grin. "Oh…sorry, Gilligan."

In answer Gilligan just gave a small, uncomfortable shrug and took a bite of fish. It seemed like every time he turned around he found another reason to hate being small.

The Skipper spoke up, trying to both break the awkward silence and change the subject at the same time. "You know, one thing I don't miss about civilization is the traffic."

There were nods all around. Everyone was grateful for the interruption.

"One time in downtown Honolulu there was a collision right in the middle of an intersection, a Mustang and a T-Bird."

At that point Gilligan stopped listening. He had heard this story before and knew the punch line. Besides, he had much heavier things on his mind. With a deep sigh he poked absently at his food wondering how much longer it would take for their rescue to come. He didn't know if he could handle being this small much longer.

"…five ambulances and four police cars!" The Skipper was really getting into the narration. His gestures became more expansive with each description. "The traffic was backed up for five miles!" To help illustrate the length he swung a hand to one side.

Gilligan never knew what hit him. One second he was taking a bite of pineapple and the next he was laying flat on his side feeling as if he had been hit by a bus. Little circles blinked across his vision and a loud ringing echoed inside his head. Voices swirled around him. At first they seemed very far away but after a moment they became clear and much too loud for his small ears to handle.

"Gilligan?"

"Is he alright?"

"Skipper, you need to be more careful."

"Assault and battery of an employee, not even _I_ would stoop that low."

"Don't rub it in. He didn't mean to!"

"Gilligan, can you hear me, Little Buddy?"

Gilligan gave a little groan and with some effort managed to sit up. From there he grabbed the edge of the Professor's book and pulled himself to his feet.

"Gilligan, Little Buddy, are you alright? Did I hur'cha?"

"Is anything broken?" The Professor added.

"What happened?" Gilligan asked weakly, shaking his head to make the stars go away. He was still a bit dazed and kept a hand on the book for support.

"The captain tried to take your head off." Mr. Howell's comment elicited a slap in the arm from Mary Ann.

The Skipper had not even heard the rich man's remark. He was too upset over what he had done and what he easily could have done. "I hit you." The admission made him feel sick. "I was talking and I got a little carried away. I'm so sorry, Little Buddy!"

"It's okay, Skipper." Gilligan assured him, the stars in his head gradually dissipating. "I'm alright."

The big man took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head. He could feel the anger building up inside. How could he have been so careless? At this size he well knew that Gilligan was fragile. If he had hit him any harder he could have knocked him right off the table. He could have killed him. The very thought made his stomach churn.

Gilligan could see the distress and guilt that showed plainly on his shipmate's face. "Skipper, don't worry about it." He took a step closer. "I've taken some hard knocks before. It's no big deal."

His Little Buddy's assurance made him feel only somewhat better. The Professor's hand rested on his shoulder.

"Skipper, there's no permanent harm done. Just learn from the experience and be more careful in the future."

Gilligan raised a hand. "There is one thing though."

The Skipper looked down at his tiny friend.

"I think I'll move my seat over there." The first mate pointed to a spot on the table out of the Skipper's reach.


	13. Down and Out

_**13. Down and Out**_

_2:00 PM day 3_

Gilligan sat sullenly on the edge of the fruit bowl in the center of the communal table. He sighed deeply, holding his chin in his hands he and staring listlessly at the woven palm fronds that made up the tabletop. He was stuck there, but it had been his own choice. The Skipper had given the little first mate two options, either stay directly with someone or be confined to the table where he could be supervised at a distance. The table was too high for Gilligan to get down from himself and all one had to do to check on him was peek out the nearest window. Gilligan hated the arrangement. It made him feel like a baby. It wasn't like they had to worry about him wandering off on his own again. After his experience in the jungle he was determined to stay in camp. He knew that they were only trying to watch out for him, but it didn't make him feel any less suffocated.

"Hi, Gilligan." Mary Ann said brightly as she strolled up to the table.

"Hi." He mumbled unenthusiastically without even looking up.

Seeing the dark cloud that hovered over him she sat down on the bench, concern puckering her forehead. "Are you alright? You look a little down."

Gilligan's mouth quirked into a faint grimace. "Do you have to use those words?"

"What words?"

" 'Down' and 'little'."

"I'm sorry. I just noticed you look like you're feeling low…" She caught herself and brought her hand up to her mouth. "I mean…"

He gave a dismissive wave. "Never mind."

"Gilligan, what's wrong? Why won't you look at me?"

"I'm getting a kink in my neck from looking up all the time."

She could hear the sarcasm in his voice but humored him anyway. Lowering her head and resting her chin on her crossed arms brought her down to eye level with the little first mate. Her large brown eyes watched him intently so that he had no choice but to meet their gaze. "Gilligan what's really wrong?"

He gave a small shrug. "I don't like being small. I feel useless."

"Oh, Gilligan, you're not useless."

"Mary Ann, I can't do _anything_!" He threw both hands out in one expansive gesture. "I mean, I like being lazy as much as the next guy, but not all the time. I can't even get down off this table let alone help anybody. When I was big I may have goofed things up but at least people wanted my help." He paused for a moment and in a quieter voice he added: "I'm really not even the Skipper's first mate anymore."

"Don't be silly. Of course you are!"

He shook his head despondently. "A first mate has responsibilities. He carries out orders, helps his captain, watches out for the passengers, helps sail the ship. I can't even pick up a mop to swab the deck!"

Mary Ann pursed her lips, trying to come up with something encouraging to say. "Gilligan you're—"

"Besides, I think the he's mad at me or somethin'."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Ever since I was hit by that beam he's been stickin' to me like glue but after what happened at lunch today he'll hardly even talk to me. He just left me out here."

"I'm sure he's just busy."

"Maybe." Gilligan said, sounding unconvinced.

"Besides, being small isn't all bad. There are lots of small people that have done big things. Napoleon, Tiny Tim, Tom Thumb. Did you ever hear of him? Tom Thumb was the smallest man in the world and because of that he became rich and famous."

"But I don't want to be rich and famous. I just want to be me. And the me that I'm used to is a whole lot bigger than the me I am now. And the me I am now can't do a whole lot more than the me I was."

Mary Ann fluttered her long eyelashes, trying to wrap her mind around what Gilligan had just said. She didn't understand it completely but after a moment of thought she managed to get the gist of it. "Gilligan, what makes you you is what's in your heart, you don't have to be tall. A person's a person no matter how small!"

Gilligan looked up, deeply pondering those words.

"Maybe you can't do the things you could before but there are a lot of things that you can do now that you never could have done when you were bigger."

"Name one."

"Well…um…" She stumbled a bit, trying to think of something. "Thread a needle."

"I could already do that."

"You can…maybe…"

"Listen, Mary Ann, I know you're just trying to help and I don't want to hurt your feelings or anything. But I kind of want to be alone."

"Oh." She said quietly, trying not to show that the request hurt a little even if she did understand it. She managed a sympathetic smile as she stood from the bench. "Okay. I'll talk to you later, then."

_2:15 PM day 3_

"I'm really worried about him." Mary Ann wrung her fingers as she spoke. Her large brown eyes shifted imploringly from the Howell's to the Skipper. "I've never seen him so depressed."

"What seems to be wrong with my Little Buddy?"

"Well, for one thing he thinks you're mad at him."

The Skipper winced almost imperceptibly. He had been avoiding Gilligan ever since the incident at lunch. Gilligan hadn't been seriously hurt and the amiable young man had forgiven him instantly but that didn't keep his own conscience from holding a grudge. He kept going over what could have happened. The more he was around his little first mate, he reasoned, the more likely he was to make the same kind of mistake again. If his little buddy was injured or killed because of his own carelessness he would never be able to forgive himself. On the other hand he didn't want Gilligan thinking he was angry with him either.

Mary Ann continued without waiting for a reply. "But mostly he feels useless. He's so small that there's no way that he can help out."

"Aww. The poor dear." Mrs. Howell shook her head. "I could imagine one could get quite bored when one is so small."

"We've got to do something to help him." Mary Ann insisted.

"But how?"

Her forehead creased in thought. "Well, we have to make him feel needed. Maybe if we asked him to do something real important, something that we can't do ourselves…"

Mr. Howell scoffed. "I sympathize with the boy's predicament. But what exactly could we have him do? The lad can't even get down off the table himself. It's not as if he can dash heroically to the rescue. Unless, of course, we recruit him to scrape the gum off someones shoe."

The Skipper nodded in resigned agreement.

But Mary Ann bit her bottom lip. "There's got to be something we can do."

With an eager gasp Mrs. Howell exclaimed. "I've got an idea!" She twiddled her gloved fingers excitedly. "Me of all people."

_2:35 PM day 3_

"Gilligan!" Mary Ann called urgently as she emerged from the jungle and rushed up to the table.

Gilligan stood, looking up at the distraught young woman. "What's wrong Mary Ann?"

"Oh, Gilligan, I'm so glad you're here! It's Mrs. Howell!"

The first mate's eyes widened. The older woman had become like a mother to him over their island exile. He would hate to hear that anything had happened to her. "What about her?"

"You're the only one who can help!"

"I'll help. I'll help." He nodded vigorously, bouncing his dark hair on his forehead, willing to do anything for his friend. A sudden thought tilted his head and brought a frown to his face. "How can I help?" He looked down at his tiny form, sure that there was no way that he could be of any assistance. "I'm too…"

"Don't argue, Gilligan!" The young woman urged, putting both hands on the table. "We've got to hurry."

He stared at her cupped hands for a beat. For some reason the idea of her holding him like that made him uncomfortable. But it was for Mrs. Howell… Without another thought he climbed on and sat down. Greenery rushed past him in a blur as Mary Ann hurried back through the jungle. He noted that she was being careful to keep her hands steady so that he wouldn't fall off.

It wasn't long before they reached a small clearing. Both the Skipper and the Howell's looked up as they came into view.

"Oh, Gilligan, I am saved!" Mrs. Howell exclaimed, completely over-dramatizing. She put the back of a hand to her forehead, looking like a distressed silent movie heroine.

"I'm here, Mrs. Howell." Gilligan stood in Mary Ann's hands as they approached. Being one to take things at face value he didn't notice the bit of bad acting. "What's wrong?"

"My ring!" She held her left hand out for Gilligan to examine.

"What ring?" He asked in confusion, staring at the bare finger that was nearly as tall as he was.

"It's my engagement ring. I simply _can't_ do without it!"

"Not to mention the doggone thing is as good as uninsured."

It was the Skipper's turn to look a bit confused. "What do you mean 'as good as uninsured'?"

"I own the insurance company."

"I don't understand." Gilligan spoke up, feeling quite befuddled. "I don't see any ring."

"That's because it's not here." Mrs. Howell answered.

"She dropped it, you see." Her husband added and pointed to the ground where there was a softball-sized hole in the sand.

"It must have rolled down in there pretty far because none of us can reach it." Mary Ann explained as she lowered him to the ground.

He stepped off her hand and onto the jungle floor. Bending a little he peeked into the dark opening. "And you want me to go in there and get it."

"I beg of you!" The rich woman over-implored. "It means so much to me."

"Sure, I'll get it for you Mrs. Howell."

"Oh, Skipper!" Mary Ann turned to the Captain, equally overacting. "How did you ever manage to hire such a brave first mate?"

The Skipper gave her a genuine smile in return. He chuckled a little. "I'll never know."

Gilligan stepped out of the sunlight and into the dark tunnel. It was several degrees cooler inside and he shivered a bit at the sudden change. The air smelled heavily of damp earth and sand. His wide blue eyes tried to adjust to the lack of light as he moved further into the steeply sloping passageway. He wished he had a flashlight or at least a match. It was quite cramped and he had to stoop to keep his head from bumping on the ceiling. The deeper he went the darker his path became and he began to wonder if he was going to have to find Mrs. Howell's ring by touch. Then there was a glint of light ahead. With an encouraged grin he hurried forward and picked the object from the floor. Even in the faint light the Frisbee-sized gold band and the gigantic diamond sparkled brightly. "I found it!" He shouted over his shoulder.

He was about to start back when he heard a soft shuffle. His entire body froze. The sound came again. Something was in the tunnel with him. As he stared into the black corridor he could just begin to see long, thin shapes surrounding a larger mass creeping slowly toward him. Gilligan stepped backward, his heart pounding in his ears. The creature stepped closer and a thin hairy thing brushed against Gilligan's arm. He took in a sharp gasp as his strained eyes finally made out what stood before him. Long black legs covered with prickly hairs supported a large two-sectioned body. The faint light glinted off of two curved fangs the size of steak knives.

He screamed, somehow managed to turn around and bolted, scrambling frantically up the passageway.

"Skipperrrrrrrrrr!" Gilligan burst out of the hole like he had been shot from a cannon, leaped onto the Skipper's shoe and tried to climb up his pant leg. "_Pickmeup!Pickmeup!Pickmeup!_"

The Skipper hesitated only a moment before reaching down and scooping the young man up in both hands. "What's the matter, Little Buddy?"

"It was so gross. Ewww!" Gilligan managed to shudder and cringe at the same time. And his voice trembled as he spoke. "It was the b-biggest b-blackest ickiest thing I ever saw!"

"What was it? What did you see?"

"Either a spider or a v-very h-hairy Volkswagen."

"What about the ring, my boy? Did you get the ring?"

"Yeah, I've got it right…" Gilligan's voice trailed off as he realized that the precious object in question was not in his hands. "Gee, I guess I dropped it. I'm really sorry Mrs. Howell."

"Don't worry about it, Gilligan." Mary Ann said. "We're just glad you got out of there in time." She felt a twinge of conscience, realizing they had unwittingly sent him into a dangerous situation.

"But I lost the ring." He said despondently, obviously feeling horrible about it.

"Not to worry." Mr. Howell reached into his blazer and pulled out a long wire with a hook bent in the end. "A Howell is always prepared."

Gilligan's eyes widened. "You had that with you the whole time?" It was more of a baffled exclamation than an accusation.

"Mr. Howell!" The Skipper bellowed. Their scheme to lift Gilligan's spirits had already backfired and the rich man all but admitting that the whole thing was a bluff certainly was not going to help.

"Well you can't expect me to drop something _that_ valuable down a hole and not have a backup plan!"

Gilligan took in a breath of realization. It had taken him a minute but now all the pieces fit together. His shoulders slumped as everything became clear. They hadn't really needed his help. It had all been a set up. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it coming. After all they had tried something like this before.

Mary Ann saw the dejection on his face and bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Gilligan. We knew how bad you felt and well…" She let her voice trail of and gave him an apologetic shrug.

"You were just trying to help." He said quietly. What he wanted more than anything right then was to just walk away from the whole situation, to go hide in the jungle for awhile and sulk. But he couldn't even do that. For one, the Skipper wouldn't let him. For another, he was afraid he would get lost again.

Gilligan was usually so bright and chipper, a smile on his face. Seeing him so depressed tugged at the Skipper's heart. There had to be something that could pull his Little Buddy out of this slump. A thought hit him and he grinned. "I've got an idea, Little Buddy. Why don't we go fishing?"

Gilligan wasn't the only one who gave him a funny look.

"Captain, I believe anchor chain is a link short. The lad can't even get his arms around a pole. Of course he could always try for being the bait."

Although the comment stung Gilligan agreed. "Besides if I catch as many as I usually do how could I carry them back to camp?"

"Oh, come on, Little Buddy. You know fishing isn't always about fishing." The Skipper was hoping that if they sat on the bank of the sleepy lagoon in the warm afternoon sun, pole in the water, like they did every day the familiar routine and the pleasant, laid back atmosphere would brighten up his young friend.

"Well, okay." Gilligan agreed with some reluctance. "But you get to bait the hook. There's no way I'm touching a worm as big as I am."


	14. Water

_**14. Water**_

_3:00 PM day 3_

The Skipper stepped out of the hut with a fishing pole and tackle box in one hand and Gilligan in the other. "It'll be fun. We'll find a comfortable spot by the lagoon, soak up some sun and forget about this whole mess."

"I donno, Skipper. I think the lagoon has it in for me." Gilligan quipped, only half joking. "Remember, it's what coughed up that dumb machine in the first place."

The Skipper laughed.

Just as they started toward the jungle the Professor stepped out of the supply hut. The Skipper approached and greeted him brightly. "Hey, there."

The Professor started slightly as if his mind had been elsewhere and he had just then noticed them. "Oh, hello." He gave them both a nod and a halfhearted smile.

"How's the work?" The Skipper inclined his head toward the supply hut.

"Can you make me big again?" Gilligan added hopefully.

The Professor gave a defeated sigh. "Not yet. The renlargement process is much more complex than I initially anticipated. I'm afraid we may have to wait pending our rescuers arrival. Surely they will be able to operate the ray."

"Well, you've been working on that thing since lunch. Why don't you come fishing with us for a bit and give that brain of yours a rest. Help you think better."

The Professor glanced over his shoulder at the machine that could be seen through the supply hut door. He turned back to the Skipper with a thoughtful nod. "Perhaps a respite would be beneficial."

"Yeah, and a break would do you some good too." Gilligan added.

A short time later the three of them arrived at the peaceful body of water. The birds chirped a happy, carefree tune as they found an ideal fishing spot on the grassy bank. The Skipper lowered Gilligan and allowed him to step off his hand onto a large rock that was just about shoulder level to the captain once he had settled down on the grass. "Now see, Little Buddy, doesn't a day like this put some wind in your sails?"

Gilligan closed his eyes and let the gentle, salty breeze ruffle his hair, felt the warm sun on his face and listened to the twittering of the jungle birds. A contented smile spread slowly across his face.

The expression on his young friend brought a warm feeling up from deep inside the Skipper. He glanced at the Professor who gave an approving nod.

_3:40 PM day 3_

"...and that's when I saw the Japanese sub off the port bow. I'm telling you, Professor, that was...Professor?"

The Professor's eyes were closed and he was breathing low and steady. His head rested on his chest while the fishing pole hung loosely in his fingers. The serene island afternoon and the warm sun had gotten to him.

The Skipper chuckled softly. "You know, that's not a bad idea." He settled back against the tree and pushed his hat down over his eyes. Soon he too was drifting into a peaceful afternoon nap.

"Some fun you guys are." Gilligan grumbled, more to himself than his two dozing friends. He set out along the shore searching for something to do. As he walked he occasionally had to push a blade of grass out of his way. He had never thought of this grass as tall before. _I'm glad I'm not back home._ He thought as he parted two blades as tall as he was. _Dad would probably tell me to mow the lawn._

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't wandered too far. The Skipper's large form rose quite visibly over the foliage. His captain's presence gave him a peace of mind that allowed him to explore a little. If anything happened all he would have to do was yell.

The grass quickly disappeared to be replaced by the sloping, sandy beach. He had stood on this beach a million times in the four years they had been here and it always seemed a quaint little spot amid the tangle of jungle that surrounded the rest of the lagoon. But it was anything but little now. The sand appeared to stretch on for miles and miles before the first mammoth shrub appeared in the distance.

He stood at the edge of the water and stared out at the lagoon that now seemed as vast as the ocean that surrounded their little island. He bet it would be fun to sail. With that sudden revelation he searched the beach until he found a slab of bark that would make a perfect raft for a fellow his size. With not too much effort he managed to push it to the edge of the water. With a stiff leaf as an oar he shoved off. He paddled out a ways then let the raft drift. Laying down on his stomach he peered into the water. Below him was a school of fish the size of cars. Now he wished he had something to use for a fishing pole. What would everyone say when he came back into camp with one of those babies! But after a moment he realized that they probably wouldn't care. Those fish were only big to _him._

With a sad sigh he lay back on the bark, his head resting on one arm. He stared up at the blue sky, the white puffy clouds and the swaying palm trees as the raft rocked gently on the water. He really wished he were big again.

A soft rustling grew from the silence as the palm trees began to sway more vigorously. The wind was picking up. In moments it was blowing hard. Choppy waves formed on the surface of the lagoon and his little raft dipped and bobbed with them. Deciding he should head back to shore Gilligan reached for the leaf he had been using for a paddle only to discover it gone. It had blown away the moment the wind had started. Great, he was stuck. He could probably swim, but with the size of those fish down there he didn't want to take any chances.

Standing up on his little raft he cupped both hands around his mouth and shouted towards the shore. "Skipper! Professor! Guys. Wake up."

The rustling trees and the faint sound of Gilligan's voice roused the Skipper from his nap. He thumbed his hat back and sat up. "Gilligan?" He looked down at the ground around him.

"Out here, Skipper!"

The Professor tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out into the lagoon. He followed the gesture to see a Gilligan waving vigorously atop a small piece of bark about fifteen feet from the shore.

"What are you doing out there?" The Skipper scolded. "I told you to stay close by."

"This is close by." Gilligan's small voice answered as he tried to keep his balance on the now violently bucking raft. "I'm stuck. Help me back, huh?"

The Skipper let out an irritated huff and set down his fishing pole. This would mean he had to get wet. "Gilligan, sometimes you are a…" His comment was cut short as a small whitecap slammed into the piece of bark, flipping it over and dumping the tiny first mate into the lagoon.

Gilligan hit the water hard, his momentum sending him an inch or so under the surface. Above, another wave hit the raft rearing it up on the crest. It came back down directly on top of Gilligan's head. Stars flashed across his vision and for a moment he forgot who he was, he forgot he was underwater and he forgot to hold his breath.

The Skipper started as he saw Gilligan hit the water, worry instantly sharpening his mind. But after a second of thought he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

The Professor glanced from the overturned piece of bark to the Skipper with a look that clearly asked 'aren't you worried'.

"He's fine." The Skipper answered the unasked question. "He swims like a fish. When he comes up we'll toss him a line." He motioned to the fishing pole in his hand.

They watched the lagoon expectantly. As the moments came and went the Skipper's expression morphed from slightly annoyed to deeply concerned.

"Skipper…"

"I know." The captain quickly slipped into the water. "He must have snagged on something and can't surface." The Skipper told himself not to be too worried. After all his first mate had broken a record or two for holding his breath. He reached the tiny piece of bark and lifted it, wholly expecting Gilligan to come to the surface with a gasp, his shirt snagged on the rough wood. That's not what he found.

Gilligan's tiny form floated face down in the cool water, rocking slightly with each wavelet.

"Oh, no!" He quickly scooped the boy up in both hands. The water drained through his fingers leaving the first mate sopping wet and lifeless in his trembling palm. "Gilligan? Gilligan! Can you hear me, Little Buddy? Speak to me!"

Gilligan's head shifted limply, but it was only the effect of the Skipper's violently shaking hands.

The Professor suddenly appeared at the Skipper's side. "Is he breathing?" He asked urgently.

"He's so small…I…I can't tell!"

"Give him here."

The captain didn't move. The shock of what was happening had all but frozen him.

"Skipper, give him here!" The Professor said in the most demanding voice he had ever used on anyone.

The Skipper swallowed hard as he carefully rolled Gilligan's tiny, limp body into the Professor's outstretched hand. With a frown of intense concentration he lightly touched two fingers to Gilligan's chest. After a tense moment his frown deepened.

"Well?" The Skipper urged, praying he was not reading his friend's expression correctly.

"He's not breathing."

The Professor's words were like a kick in the stomach. This couldn't be happening. Not to Gilligan.

The Professor gently rolled the first mate over so he was lying face down. With two fingers he began to push down on his back with a swift upward motion, going from his lower back to just between his shoulder blades.

"What are you doing?" The Skipper asked, hearing his own voice catch with worry.

"I am attempting to forcibly expel the liquid from his lungs." The Professor didn't look at the captain as he spoke but kept his eyes intently on the young first mate. "Come on, Gilligan." He urged in a whisper. This just had to work.

The Skipper wrung his hands anxiously as the moments ticked by. The small figure in the Professor's hand was as still as ever. "Nothing's happening!"

The Professor didn't reply, he simply redoubled his efforts

"Push harder!" The Skipper urged, knowing that as he watched his best friend was slipping away.

"I'm afraid to." The Professor said, nearly as distraught as the captain. He knew very well that Gilligan's life lay all too literally in his hands. "I don't want to break his back."

"It's not working! Try something else."

"What? What else can I do?" He indicated Gilligan's tiny form. "He's too small to perform artificial resuscitation!"

A small sound instantly arrested the tense conversation. A gurgle came from the back of Gilligan's throat just before his whole body heaved and he threw up water. Instantly he began coughing in violent spasms, each cough bringing up more liquid from his lungs. After several agonizing moments of this he quieted, laying on his side and breathing heavily.

"Gilligan, Little Buddy, are you alright?"

Gilligan nodded weakly and the captain let out a huge breath he had not realized he had been holding. The Professor, too, visibly relaxed. The first mate groaned slightly as he sat up in the center of the Professor's palm and rubbed the top of his head.

"You gave us quite a fright, there, Gilligan." The Professor said.

"I told you not to run off like that." The Skipper scolded, his worry quickly changing to irritation. "I oughta have you keel hauled for scaring us like that!"

"Sorry Skipper." A small cough accompanied the meek apology.

"Well," His annoyance faded as quickly as it had come. "Just be more careful next time." He took the tiny white hat that he had managed to scoop up along with Gilligan and set it on the first mate's head.

"T-thanks." Gilligan rubbed his hands briskly over his arms. His entire body had begun trembling violently.

"What's the matter, Little Buddy?"

"I'm s-so c-cold."

The Professor glanced at the Skipper with a bit of concern coloring his eyes. "We should get him back to camp. His reduced size has diminished his body's ability to retain heat. And the water is compounding the problem."

The Skipper reached into his back pocket and pulled out his large red handkerchief and wrapped it around his diminutive first mate. "Come on Little Buddy." The Skipper said, as they headed back toward the compound. "Lets get you dried off."

"Professor…" Gilligan looked up imploringly. "I don't know how much more of this I can take. You've gotta make me big again."

"Gilligan, I give you my word that I will do everything within my power to restore your original size."

"Yeah, but do you promise?"


	15. Foes and Failure

_**15. Foes and Failure **_

_4:15 PM day 3_

Gilligan was back in the supply hut…again. At first the Professor had been quite worried that he was going to catch hypo-something-or-other from his little spill in the lagoon. But it had only taken a few minutes standing in the warm sun for he and his clothes to dry off. He still felt a little chilly as if it were taking some time for his insides to catch up. But he completely ignored the discomfort. He was much too excited to be bothered with such trivialities now.

"Do you really think it will work?" He asked, watching the Professor tinker with buttons and switches on the large machine on the other side of the room.

"I am confident that this particular combination will produce the desired results."

"Yeah, but will it work?"

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Gilligan, that's what he just said."

Gilligan scrunched up one side of his face. "When?"

Before the Skipper could answer the Professor spoke up. "Alright, Gilligan, it's ready. Prepare yourself." He flipped one more switch and the, now familiar, hum rose to fill the hut. The glass rod flickered with colors that could not be found in nature.

As both sound and light reached their peak Gilligan closed his eyes tight and waited for the unpleasant tingling. The sensation was much more intense this time, as if all those little ants had decided to bite him as they crawled their way through his body. He had to consciously keep himself from screaming and swatting at the insects that he knew weren't there. It felt like an eternity but really couldn't have been more than three or four seconds before the beam vanished along with the nonexistent attackers.

He relaxed, opened his eyes and let out a breath of relief, quite glad that the ordeal was over. A frown instantly appeared on his face as he saw that he still had to look up at his friends. "How come you two guys are still so big?" The young man's heart sank as he realized the implication of what he saw. "I'm still small."

"Gilligan, you must be patient. As with the reduction process renlargement is most likely to be gradual."

_4:35 PM day 3_

Once again Gilligan stood outside on the communal table. The rest of the castaways were gathered around, fingers crossed as the Professor attempted to measure the first mate.

Gilligan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting anxiously as the Professor held the ruler up behind him. "Did it work? Am I growing yet? Am I growing?"

"Hold still, Gilligan. Or I won't get an accurate reading."

The impatient young man held his breath, trying to curb his exuberance. His hat was wrung like a wet rag in his nervous hands as he watched the Professor's face intensely.

"Exactly 3.8." Failure showed plainly on the Professor's features. "It didn't work."

Gilligan's shoulders sagged and his heart had sank into his sneakers.

The despondency in the young man's posture moved the Professor to continue. "I'm terribly sorry, Gilligan." He shook his head in both puzzlement and frustration. "I don't understand. I was certain I had the correct settings."

"Oh, Gilligan, don't look so downcast." Mary Ann said, unable to bear the hopelessness that had descended upon the boy like a rain cloud. "He'll try again. It'll work next time."

"Yes dear." Mrs. Howell shook a gloved finger like a lecturing mother. "You know what they say about falling off a polo pony."

"You pray to high heaven that you don't land on the ball!" Her husband added with a self-satisfied laugh.

Gilligan shook his head, the attempted consolation not reaching his heart. "No. I'm gonna be stuck like this forever. I just know it."

Mary Ann was appalled at the pessimism that was being displayed by the usually optimistic first mate. "That doesn't sound like the Gilligan we know. Why, the Gilligan we know would bounce back, hope for the best. He wouldn't be discouraged by one little failure."

Gilligan gave her an odd look. "How many other Gilligan's do you know?"

"One seems to be sufficient." Mrs. Howell said.

"You don't just give up on the first try." Ginger added, ignoring the first mate's confusion. "Do you realize how many times I had to audition for the Venution Princess in 'Men Are From Mars'? Why I…"

"Hush!" The Professor's voice sliced through the conversation as he held up a silencing hand.

The movie star looked quite annoyed at being interrupted. "Professor I was t…"

"Quiet." He ordered, not even looking at Ginger. His head was cocked slightly as he stared intensely at an empty spot on the table. "Do you hear that?"

Everyone was silent for a moment and an odd rumbling could be heard over the natural jungle sounds.

The Skipper's eyes went wide with recognition. "It's a motor!" He shouted, not even trying to contain his elation. "A boat motor!"

"They're here!" Mary Ann cried, clapping her hands excitedly. "They're finally here!"

"We're rescued!" Ginger exclaimed breathlessly.

"To the lagoon!" Mr. Howell thrust his swagger stick ahead of him and charged down the jungle path.

The others hurried after him, chattering animatedly, anxious to meet their rescuers.

"Hey, wait!" Gilligan tried to run after them but was halted by the sheer drop at the edge of the table. "Take me with you!" He jumped up and down, waving frantically. But it was too late. They were gone. In their excitement of the moment they had forgotten all about him. He let out an irritated huff, shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked sullenly at the tabletop. "And I dub thee: Gilligan the Invisible."

_4:50 PM day 3_

"Zat's strange." Seigfried stared in puzzlement at the blinking monitor on the control panel as the boat glided into a small, peaceful lagoon. "Ze beacon indicates that the device is several meters inland. Now vhy would…"

"Seigfried look!" Starker stabbed a finger at the shore ahead where several people were emerging from the lush jungle, all of them shouting and waving. "Vhat are we going to do?" He pulled a pistol from inside his jacket. "You vant I should…"

Seigfried put up a halting, black-gloved hand. "Not yet." He scrutinized the smiling group with the eye of a trained spy. "Zey appear to be unarmed." He motioned for Starker to put his gun away as the small ship glided up to the bank and the strange knot of people gathered around it.

A sandy haired man in a white shirt greeted the two spies as they stepped onto the shore. "Welcome! Welcome!" He managed to say over the excited clamor of the others. He shook both their hands vigorously. "We've been expecting you."

The large man in a blue tee shirt and a captain's hat welcomed them with an overzealous handshake that nearly shattered bone. "We found your machine, see, and…"

Seigfried's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Vhy vere you expecting us?" He kept his hand in his pocket ready to whip out his weapon if these odd people turned out to be enemy agents.

The man in the white shirt answered eagerly. "I noticed the homing beacon on your machine so I naturally assumed that someone would be coming for it."

They had taken it out of its container. Seigfried deduced with some apprehension. If the machine were damaged in any way KAOS would surely blame him. He did not even want to think about the consequences for such a failure.

"I can't believe it! We're finally rescued!" An older woman in a large blue hat exclaimed. "After all these years without a beauty parlor."

"You will be rewarded handsomely!" Promised a stuffy looking man in a silk cravat.

Although completely bewildered Seigfried relaxed a bit. It was clear these people posed no danger. No spy in his right mind would behave this way. "I'm afraid I don't understand." He directed the statement to the man in the white shirt, for he seemed to be the calmest and perhaps most sane of the group.

"Please forgive us." He implored. "We've been shipwrecked for such a long time…"

"Four years." Added a pretty brunette in ponytails.

"Ah, shipwrecked vere you?" Seigfried gave a slow nod. It made sense now. Although Starker still looked confused. "Vell ve are happy zat our machine happened to land on your little island." He said with a small bow and the sweetest smile he could muster without becoming nauseous. "I am Conrad Seigfried. And zis is my associate,…" As he motioned to his dense lackey his smile turned wry. "…Shtarker."

Starker gave a nod of his head and clicked his heels together.

"I'm the Skipper." The big man in the blue shirt said. "And this is the Professor. Mary Ann, Mr. and Mrs. Howell and this is…" The Skipper stepped aside a bit and motioned to a tall redhead.

"Ginger Grant!" Starker's jaw dropped in awe. She had been standing behind the Skipper and in the excitement he hadn't seen her.

Seigfried raised an eyebrow as his subordinate approached the shapely redhead with nothing short of reverence.

"I cannot believe mine own eyes! I have dreamed of zis day." The big man fairly trembled with excitement. He managed to calm himself enough to take her hand. "Miss. Grant." He gave it a smart kiss then threw his hands wide. "I am your biggest fan!"

Ginger giggled, completely flattered by the attention. After all it had been four years since anyone had really fawned over her. Adoring fans were one of the things she missed most about civilization. "Are you now?" She asked with a flutter of her long eyelashes.

"Ja! I have watched every one of your movies at least five times. Even ze first movie you vere ever in, you played ze little sister."

She beamed, nearly overcome at having an admiring fan again. "I nearly forgot about that one. I was so young."

"And beautiful." Starker added.

Seigfried rolled his eyes, sickened by the man's lack of dignity. "Shtarker!" He barked causing everyone in the group to jump.

The big man snapped instantly to attention. "Ja, mine leader!"

"Knock it off!" Seigfried's voice switched quickly from harsh to honey. "Ve have work to do."

"Oh, yes. Of course." The Professor said, realizing that the man wished to get down to business. "The machine is this way." He beaconed them to follow him as he started down a small trail through the dense jungle.

As the eight of them picked their way through the tangle of vegetation the six castaways nearly bubbled over with excitement.

"Thank you so much for coming!" The young woman called Mary Ann touched Seigfried's arm gratefully.

"Don't mention it." He replied, still keeping up a friendly front. "Glad to help."

"Now you can cure Gilligan."

Before he had a chance to ask what she meant by that the Professor explained. "One of our friends accidentally activated your machine with some particularly dire consequences. We were hoping that you could reverse the effects."

"I vould be glad to do what I can to help." They obviously assumed that since he had come to retrieve the machine he knew how to operate it. No matter. He didn't plan on playing nice guy long enough to try.

_5:10 PM day 3_

Gilligan stood earnestly on the edge of the table as the excited clamor from the jungle grew louder. He stretched on his tiptoes as if that would help him to see further. It wasn't long before all of his friends emerged from the thick foliage, chattering animatedly. They were accompanied by two men. The Professor was speaking intently to the shorter of the two. A small blonde moustache sat on his upper lip and he walked with a bit of a swagger. Black leather boots nearly reached his knees and his leather blazer, also black, sported some sort of insignia on the left chest. The taller man with deep-set eyes who was talking with Ginger wore a black turtleneck and looked as if he could break someone's neck with a finger.

"Lovey, the boy is three inches tall." Mr. Howell was saying to his wife as they passed the table. "When is that going to dawn on you?"

"I know dear, but where else are we going to find a porter? Who will carry our luggage to the boat?"

"Perhaps that big fellow with the…" The millionaire's voice faded as they entered their hut.

The girls too, broke off from the group and the first mate heard a snippet of their conversation as they hurried toward their hut.

"I can't believe it. Finally! Hollywood here I come!" The movie star turned to Mary Ann. "Would you help me with my costume trunk?"

"You're not taking that thing with you?"

"Of course. I wouldn't leave without it!"

The young girl rolled her eyes and shook her head, bouncing her ponytails. "Between you and the Howells there won't be room for passengers."

"…was able to stop him from shrinking." The Professor was saying as he and the two visitors came into hearing range. "But I'm afraid the solution for renlargement has eluded me." As they approached the table the Professor motioned in Gilligan's direction.

As he caught sight of the tiny first mate the smaller man's blonde eyebrows raised considerably, creasing his forehead.

The bigger man looked down and his eyes nearly popped from their sockets. "Oh, Seigfried!" He exclaimed coming closer to get a better look at Gilligan. "Look at ze little man!"

Gilligan stepped back a bit, unaccustomed to such scrutiny.

"This is my first mate, Gilligan." The Skipper said. "Gilligan, this is Seigfried,"

The blonde man gave a curt nod.

"…and Starker."

"Hello." Starker said, still in awe of the tiny person on the table.

"They're going to rescue us. Isn't that wonderful?"

Gilligan nodded vigorously. He looked hopefully up at the two men that towered above him. "Does that mean you can make me big again too?"

"Vhy of course young man." Seigfried smiled down at the tiny boy in the red shirt.

Starker gave his superior an odd look. "But Seigfried we don't know anything about—"

"_You_ may not know anything about it, dumkoff." The blonde man snapped, with a look that could kill. "But _I_ do." He emphasized the last word as if the sentence held more meaning than met the ears.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Gilligan said eagerly.

"Just a moment." Seigfried said holding up one black-gloved finger. "Remember, patience is a virtue." To Gilligan the words felt like a verbal pat on the head. "First I must examine ze machine and make sure it has not been damaged." He turned to the Professor. "Now would you be so kind as to show it to me?"

"Of course." The Professor led the way to the supply hut.

"Don't worry Little Buddy. You'll be your old self again in no time!" The Skipper said before turning and following their would be rescuers.

Gilligan let out a little sigh. He really wanted this to all be over then, right that moment. But he supposed a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference. But he was growing quite tired of being patient.

_5:20 PM day 3_

Seigfried stepped out of the supply hut completely satisfied that the precious machine had been wholly undamaged, despite the accident and the Professor's tinkering. KAOS would be pleased.

The Howells emerged from their hut carrying several large suitcases. With great effort they managed to drag them across the clearing and drop them near the end of the table. Mr. Howell dropped to the nearest bench with an exhausted groan and began dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. His wife, much more of a trooper than her husband, fanned him with her scarf. "Just think of it, Lovey. This is the last time we will ever have to stoop to manual labor."

Mrs. Howell's painted eyebrows came together in a small frown. "You know Thurston, I believe I'll miss doing some things for ourselves."

He looked sharply at his wife, his oversized nose wrinkled as if she had just announced that she had taken a job as a sewer worker. "It's a good thing we're getting rescued now, my dear. This island is getting to you!"

The girls soon emerged from their hut as well, Mary Ann carrying her small suitcase in one hand and had a hold of one the handles on Ginger's costume trunk with the other. Ginger struggled to carry the other end.

"Here, let me help you with that." The Skipper moved over, shooed the girls away and lifted the heavy trunk as if it were an empty cardboard box.

"Thank you, Skipper." Ginger said, as he set it near the Howell's luggage. She turned to Seigfried. "Just a few more things." She promised, then motioned to the costume trunk. "You can start loading it onto the ship if you like."

"Yes," Mr. Howell added. "And when you move that blue suitcase be extra careful. It contains something extremely valuable."

"Vhat?" Starker asked curiously.

"Money."

"I'm afraid ve von't be loading ze ship just yet." Seigfried said calmly.

"Why not?" The Skipper looked somewhat perplexed.

"There are several things zat must be done first." He gave them a cryptic grin that widened his moustache.

"Yeah, me." Gilligan spoke up hopefully.

"Zat is definitely one of zem." He looked down at Gilligan with an expression that ran a chill up the first mate's spine. Turning to his subordinate he said: "Shtarker, vould you be so kind as to go to the boat. There is a jar in ze cabin. Empty it and bring it back to me."

Starker frowned a little, unaccustomed to Seigfried speaking politely to him.

"Do it!" The smaller man barked, his demeanor having switched in an instant.

Starker saluted crisply and quickly disappeared into the jungle.

Mary Ann cocked her head curiously. "What do you need a jar for?"

Seigfried gave a little shrug, reverting back to his nice guy persona. "Oh, just to put a little somezing in. Now tell me," He tried to sound conversational. "…it has been just ze seven of you stranded here for four years? No vun else?"

"Well, occasionally we have gotten…er…visitors." The Skipper's mouth quirked to one side remembering all the people who had stopped by the island and for one reason or other hadn't taken them along when they had left. "But they never stayed for long."

Seigfried shook his head sympathetically.

Ten minutes later Starker returned and handed Seigfried a large glass jar. Immediately Seigfried gave some sort of order in German and each of them pulled out a large pistol, Seigfried from his blazer and Starker from his pants pocket. The weapons were leveled firmly on the castaways. "Alright, everybody, hands _up_!"

The order was such a surprise that it took a moment for all the castaways to comply.

"What is this, some kind of joke?" Ginger raised her hands slowly and took a step closer to the Professor who looked completely bewildered.

"It's no joke, Cookie." The man's entire disposition had changed from amiable to cold as ice.

Gilligan swallowed hard and began to back away, hoping that these men had forgotten about him just as his friends had earlier. If he could just hide for awhile, maybe in the fruit bowl… He turned and ran. He had cleared half the table length and was nearly to the large bowl when suddenly the world distorted in front of him. Everything looked bent, slightly out of proportion. Almost as if he were looking through the bottom of a…

'KLUNK'

Gilligan ran, face first, into a wall that wasn't there. The impact sent him toppling backward to land hard on his backside. With a pained groan he put a hand to his nose to make sure it wasn't broken. Before he could even try to get up the table (was it the table?) tilted and he was forced to slide until his feet hit something solid. He gasped as the clear surface he was now standing on began to rise. He stared straight down, wide-eyed at the tabletop shrinking beneath his feet. He had to get off here before he was too high. Two steps and he hit another invisible wall. Glass. A dark shadow fell over him and he looked up to see a circular metallic object being turned above his head. It looked like some kind of giant lid. That's when it hit him with the force of a hurricane. He was in the jar. They had put it on its side and he had run right into the simple trap.

"Hey!" Panic rose up inside him. He could hear his voice and frantic breathing echo in the clear prison as he pounded against the glass. "What's the big idea? Let me outta here!"

"Hey!" The Skipper's voice boomed through the jungle as the imposing sailor stepped forward menacingly, ready for a fight. "You can't do that to my Little Buddy!"

Seigfried glanced sharply at the Skipper and took careful aim with the weapon in his hand.

"No!" Gilligan shouted, seeing what was just about to happen. But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

A deafening gunshot echoed through the jungle.

Mary Ann clamped both hands over her mouth, stifling a frightened scream. Ginger shrieked and grabbed the Professor's arm with a death-grip. The Howells held tightly to each other, Mr. Howell looking as if he were about to faint.

Gilligan's heart thundered wildly in his chest. His blue eyes were wide and his breath came in quick gasps as the gunshot rang in his ears. He expected to see the Skipper grab his chest and collapse like so many victims in the gangster movies he used to watch back home. That mental image had frightened him many times more than being trapped in a jar ever could. But to his immense relief his captain hadn't fallen. The bullet had ripped through his hat, doing no more damage than tearing it off the startled sailor's head.

The Skipper's hand instantly went to his bare head, the magnitude of what had just happened and what easily could have happened showing plainly on his face.

Seigfried casually puffed the smoke off the tip of his pistol, and gave the Skipper a long hard look. "Next time I von't aim so high."


	16. Gilligan Under Glass

_**16. Gilligan Under Glass**_

_5:45 PM day 3_

"It's time to straighten some things out." Seigfried kept the smoking gun trained on the six castaways. By their wide-eyed expressions he was certain that his little demonstration had left them sufficiently cowed. Which suited him. "_We_ are going back to ze mainland and we are taking ze machine with us. But _you_…" He made a sweeping gesture with his weapon to indicate the group before him. "…are not coming."

At that moment rescue was the furthest thing from the Skipper's mind. His jaw muscles pulsed and his hands clenched into fists. His eyes flicked from the two men with guns to the jar that Seigfried held in one hand. Even from where he stood he could see the terrified expression on his first mate's face. If it hadn't been for the weapons he would have throttled the smug German and taken Gilligan back right then and there. He wasn't sure what these two had in store for his Little Buddy, but whatever it was he was certain it was nothing good.

"I don't understand." The Professor stepped forward just a bit, Ginger still clinging to his arm. "Why are you doing this?"

"We haven't done anything to you." Mary Ann added, peeking out from behind the Skipper.

"In zis world you'll find that there are ze good guys and ze bad guys." Seigfried's arrogant grin was accompanied by the tiniest bow. "I happen to be one of ze bad guys."

"Well, you wouldn't be so bad if you made an effort to improve your manners." Mrs. Howell shook a gloved finger at their captor. "A lesson in social skills would improve your character immeasurably."

"Taking over ze world isn't exactly a people-friendly business." He snapped back.

"I hate to break it to you, old boy," Mr. Howell said, finally recovering from the sound of the earlier gunshot. "But the war's over. Germany lost."

"Zis has nothing to do with ze war. Unt Germany lost because they vere closed-minded and prejudice. They didn't believe, as we do, that all men are created equal. KAOS, on ze other hand, is a worldwide brotherhood where men and women from every nation, every race are working side by side, all united in accomplishing a single goal: global domination!"

"Oh, Seigfried!" Starker lowered his weapon a moment to dab at his eyes. "Zat vas the beautiful. Now I'm getting all weepy-eyed."

"You dumkoff! You stupid! You…you…" His face flushed red as he tried to come up with an adequate insult. "…you _sissy_! Zis is KAOS. Ve don't get weepy-eyed here! Now keep zem covered!"

Starker flinched at the outburst as he leveled his gun on the castaways once more.

The Professor held out both hands in an unthreatening gesture of appeal. "Listen, take the machine. We don't want it. But we beg of you, please, before you leave restore Gilligan's height. And if you could just take one of us back with you so they can return with help. Or at least tell someone where we are."

"I must be honest with you." Seigfried sighed, sounding sympathetic. "We vere just sent here to retrieve ze machine." He over dramatized a helpless shrug. "Ve have no idea of how it works. But we vill be taking one of you with us."

"Who?" Asked the Professor, both eager and suspicious at the same time. These men had proven themselves to be dangerous and unpredictable. Being trapped on a small boat with them was a great risk to that individual. However the trip would only last three days tops and if one of the castaways could be dropped off at a port they could send back help.

"Him." He lifted the jar that held the little first mate.

Gilligan gulped. "Me?" Despite the prospect of returning to civilization Gilligan did not like the idea of going anywhere with these two men. The panic that welled up inside him made his knees shake as adrenaline pounded in his ears. He couldn't run and he couldn't hide which effectively ruled out his first reaction to any dangerous situation. Seigfried raised the jar to eye level, examining the boy as if he were a particularly interesting insect. The spy's face took up Gilligan's entire field of vision and he stepped back until he was pressed up against the glass. He swore right then and there that he would never put another animal in a jar again as long as he lived.

"Ze KAOS lab vill be quite interested in zis little fellow." Seigfried gave the glass a couple taps with the barrel of his revolver. The deafening 'klink' thundered inside the jar moving Gilligan to clamp both hands over his ears. "He vill demonstrate exactly what ze machine can do. He'll make ze perfect test subject."

"Hey, just a minute now!" The Skipper stabbed an angry finger at their two captors. "You can't use my Little Buddy for a guinea pig!"

The Professor put a firm hand on the sailor's shoulder, keeping him from taking another step. "Skipper, no." He whispered harshly. Seeing Gilligan in the hands of these obviously ruthless and unstable individuals bothered him too. But getting themselves shot would do nothing to help their young friend.

"I don't understand." Mary Ann spoke up timidly. "If they made it shouldn't they already know what it can do?"

"Oh, heavens no." He shook his head speaking as if he were addressing the boys at the club and not a row of hostages. "KAOS didn't make zis machine. It vas created by an attic scientist by ze name of Richard Moranis. KAOS offered him a handsome salary to come work in our science department where he could continue his research for us and have ze prospect of being an integral part of ze most glorious smuggling venture since the Great Pekingese Operation of 1865. Unfortunately," He gave a small shrug. "He vasn't very sympathetic to our cause. We were forced to have him taken care of."

"Was he sick?" Gilligan asked, hoping that 'taken care of' didn't mean what he thought it did.

"Not anymore."

The man's tone left no room for misinterpretation. Gilligan swallowed hard, feeling his throat go dry. His chest heaved, breathing having become increasingly difficult.

"So you see, ve are now in possession of a very useful piece of equipment without instructions for it's operation. But thanks to zis little fellow and…" He aimed his weapon at the Professor. "…your notes ve have managed to gain some insight. Zis vill be quite helpful to ze boys at ze lab."

"I'd make a lousy lab rat, honest." Gilligan tugged at his collar, beginning to feel as if it were strangling him. "I never was good at mazes, I was always flunking tests in school and I don't even like cheese."

"Pardon me, there. Yes, Mr. Seigfried." Mr. Howell raised a hand, attempting to get their attention in the least threatening manner possible. "I realize that the two of you are attached to your little plan and quite an effective plan it is. But would you consider altering that plan for, say, half a million dollars?" Usually he started lower than that and raised his price accordingly but the situation was awful tense and he suspected starting high (well, high for anyone else) was a wise decision.

Starker's eyes bulged. "Seigfried, did you hear zat?"

Seigfried eyed the millionaire thoughtfully. "What changes exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, surely you can get that infernal device working with the Professor's notes. The boy will only cause you trouble. Believe me. For half a million dollars leave the lad with us and deliver this message to the nearest coast guard." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket.

"No deal."

Starker turned to his superior in surprise. "But Seigfried—"

"I said 'no'. We need zis little fellow to prove to our scientists zat the machine can shrink people as vell as objects. Somesing we never would have guessed. With zis ability our spies could go anywhere without being detected! As for delivering your letter, vell, zat would be using KAOS property for personal gain." He shrugged, almost apologetically just before his voice hardened. "Besides, I don't trust you!"

"Not trust Thurston Howell the Third?" The millionaire gasped as if he were truly insulted. "The soul of honor and fair trade?"

"Professor…" Through the entire discussion the Skipper had been watching Gilligan. He motioned to the jar where the tiny first mate now had one hand clutching his chest and the other banging weakly against the glass. As they watched the boy sank to his knees as if his legs would no longer hold him. This was not typical or even panicked Gilligan behavior. Something else was wrong.

It took the Professor a moment to realize what was happening to their young friend but the instant he did he automatically took a quick step forward and threw a hand toward the jar in Seigfried's hand. "For heaven's sake, let him out of there! He can't-" Even as he made the move he realized it was too sudden and too threatening. Yet he was still surprised at the sound that interrupted him.

_BANG!_

Ginger screamed as the Professor staggered backward. With a pained grunt his hand shot to his right arm, gripping it tightly. Red liquid quickly stained his white sleeve and seeped between his fingers.

After what had just happened on one dared move to help him but the voiced concerns were instant and anxious.

"Oh, Professor, are you alright?"

"Does it hurt?"

"How deep is it?"

"Lovey, I think I'm going to faint!"

Mrs. Howell grabbed her husband's arm just as she shook a finger at Seigfried. "You're a nasty, horrid little man!"

"I'm alright. I'm alright." The Professor assured through clenched teeth. "It's superficial."

Gilligan had looked up at the sound of the gunshot, but from where he stood on his hands and knees he couldn't see over Seigfried's hand, which was wrapped firmly around the jar. The startled and worried shouts that followed the blast terrified him and he wanted more than anything to see what was going on but he was so lightheaded that he didn't think that he could stand up. All he could do was pray that none of his friends had been hurt.

"Now, now, Professor. You should have known better than zat." Seigfried scolded. "I don't want to kill anyone, at least not in front of the ladies. But make another move like that and you'll cause me to force the issue."

Ginger glared at the two men, her hand on the Professor's shoulder now more protective than fearful. She had been looking for the right time to try and seduce these men into either letting them go or lowering their guard. But now she wasn't sure she wanted to risk it.

"That was unnecessary." The Professor said as he removed his belt, wrapped it around his arm and pulled it tight. The bullet had simply grazed him and he didn't think he was in danger of bleeding to death but he still wanted to keep as much of the fluid as possible. "I was simply trying to tell you that the oxygen in that jar is diminishing. If you don't release Gilligan quickly he'll suffocate."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" He handed the jar to his subordinate. "Shtarker, would you poke some holes in zat jar so our little specimen vill have some air?"

"Ja." Starker gave a compliant nod as he raised his pistol to the glass.

Even with his blurred vision and oxygen-deprived brain Gilligan could see the weapon the size of a large cannon aimed directly at him. He squeezed his eyes closed, covered his ears and waited.

"Not like that, stupid!" Seigfried reached over and slapped Starker's pistol down. "In ze lid with your knife." He rolled his eyes and addressed the castaways as if looking for sympathy. "You see vhat I have to go through?"

Starker produced a large knife from inside his left sock and with a couple of quick stabs punctured the jar's lid, leaving slits in the aluminum.

Gilligan's breathing slowed somewhat and the dizziness dissolved as oxygen filled the jar and reached his lungs. "Thanks." He panted as his body relaxed. He sat up and leaned against the glass wall.

"Is zat better?" Starker asked, shaking the jar a little, causing Gilligan to slide from one side to the other and back again. For a brief second the movement reminded him of the bucking deck of the _Minnow_ in that storm so long ago.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen," Seigfried began. "We must be leaving soon so I'm afraid ve must tie you all up. Wouldn't want you to get in ze vay while we carry ze machine to the boat."

"Aww, Seigfried." Starker whined. "Must we tie zem up now? I wanted to ask for Ginger's autograph."

"Dumkoff!" Seigfried shouted. "Zis is KAOS! Ve don't ask for autographs here!"

_6:20 PM day 3_

"You'll never get away with this!" The Skipper bellowed, struggling against the thick bamboo pole he was firmly lashed to. Seeing the captain as the biggest threat in more ways than one their captors had wisely restrained him first, tying his hands behind his back and strapping him to the thick support pole that stood in the center of he and Gilligan's hut. Despite the solidity of the shaft his efforts still shook the entire structure.

Seigfried, who was now tying Mr. Howell to one of the walls vertical support beams feigned shock. "Did you hear that Shtarker? We'll never get away with zis. Maybe ve should surrender now and get it over with."

Starker, who stood in the doorway holding Gilligan and keeping the other castaways covered lowered his weapon slightly. He looked rather confused. "Really?"

Seigfried rolled his eyes. "No, not really."

"Listen," Mr. Howell began. "These ropes are so course and Howell skin is so delicate. Would you mind terribly using something a bit less chaffing? In my hut there's a silk scarf that…"

"Forget it." He gave the knot one last check before moving to the Professor.

The resident genius gave a pained hiss as both arms were pulled back and his hands were tied but other than that he made no complaint.

"Hey, you be careful with him!" The Skipper ordered.

"I'm fine, Skipper." The Professor assured, not wanting the sailor to provoke these two men any further.

The captain let out a small huff as he eyed the large red stain on the Professor's right sleeve. It looked anything but fine. How could he have let this happen? He was the captain. He should have prevented this.

Starker watched as Seigfried moved from the Professor to Ginger, the last of the castaways to be bound. "Seigfrid, why you are doing the tying?" Usually he was the one who would be assigned such menial work.

"You are a big sissy." Seigfried stated matter-of-factly as he tied the movie star to yet another bamboo wall brace. "You vould take pity on your girlfriend here and leave her a little loose. She vould escape, cause a little sabotage unt KAOS would have our heads."

"Never!" Starker asserted. "I am loyal to ze forces of evil!"

"You're the most miserable excuse for a fan that I've ever had the misfortune to meet!" Ginger shouted.

"I'm sorry." Starker sounded genuinely apologetic. "But I'm a KAOS agent first and a movie buff second."

She gave him a piercing glare that could have burned a hole through a glacier. He swallowed and was quite glad that she was now tied up.

"Well," Seigfried began, stepping back to the doorway and surveying the six restrained castaways. "It's been a load of laughs but I'm afraid it's time to say goodbye." He gave a small nod and left.

The Skipper's gaze went to the jar that sat in Starker's left hand. Gilligan stood inside the container with both his hands pressed up against the glass and a haunted look on his boyish face. Their eyes met and the young man said one word. He couldn't hear it and as small as Gilligan was it was difficult to read his lips but he knew exactly what his first mate had said: goodbye.

"Goodbye!" Starker twiddled his fingers in a rather childish wave before following his boss.

"Come on, Shtarker." Seigfried headed toward the supply hut. "It'll take both of us to carry zis infernal device."

"But…uh…what should I do with…?" He held up the jar.

"Put him on ze table and ve'll come back for him. It's not like he'll be going anywhere."

Starker shoved his gun in his pocket, set the jar in the center of the communal table and followed Seigfried to the supply hut.

Gilligan couldn't believe his luck. He had given up, knowing that there was no way he could have escaped while they were holding him but now that they were out of sight just maybe… "HELP!" His voice echoed eerily inside the glass cell. "Somebody! _Any_body! Let me outta here!" He shouted at the top of his voice and pounded both fists against the glass hoping that someone could hear him. At that point he would have been entirely happy to see Gladys emerge from the jungle and carry him off again.

"They're gone!" The Skipper said, struggling hard against his bonds and once again shaking the entire hut.

"It ought to take them approximately fifteen minutes to restore the device to the crate, haul it back to the lagoon and return." The Professor calculated as he too attempted to loosen the ropes. The effort, however, brought an involuntary gasp as pain shot up his arm.

"One of us has got to get loose before they come back." The Skipper urged. "Who knows what they'll do to my Little Buddy when they get him back to that lab!"

"Let…me…out!" Gilligan shouted as he threw himself against the glass wall. He took in a startled breath as the jar tipped slightly before stabilizing. He stared at the transparent barrier for a long moment taking in what he had just done. A smile slid across his face as the possibilities sunk in. With even more gusto he leaped against the side of the jar, throwing all his weight into his shoulder. The jar tipped even further this time.

"If we can just reach…"

"What is he doing?" Mary Ann's thoughtful question interrupted the Skipper's planning. She was tied closest to the door and could see all but one end of the table outside.

"What's who doing, dear?" Mrs. Howell asked.

"Gilligan. He's tipping…" Her eyes widened in both surprise and hope. "Oh! He just tipped the jar over!"

"That's my Little Buddy!" The Skipper cheered.

Gilligan stood up, his head not even close to touching the other side of the jar, which was now above him. He was quite proud of his accomplishment. But he wasn't free yet. Stepping over to the lid, mindful of the sharp metal edges around the air holes he tried to unscrew it, first with his hands then with both feet. It wouldn't budge. Not an inch. He sighed, feeling quite defeated. He might as well be trying to open a bank vault without the combination. Taking off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his forehead he stood up…and the entire jar moved. _It rolled _he realized with elation. He put a foot on the concave surface and stepped down, rolling the jar even further. It was like a giant hamster wheel!

"He just figured out that he can roll it." Mary Ann said, giving the others an update on what Gilligan was doing.

"Yes, but how is he going to get down?"

The same exact question ran through Gilligan's mind as the jar reached one edge of the table. It was an awful long way to the ground, nearly equivalent to a four-story building. He walked along the edge of the table, hoping to find some miraculous solution. As he reached the far end the he looked down and stood there for a moment, thinking. Not directly below but near enough sat one of Mr. Howell's suitcases. It stood a foot and a half below and perhaps a foot beyond the table's edge. It was still a long ways to jump and he could certainly break his neck if he failed. But it was the only chance he had. If he could just land on top of that suitcase he could jump to the smaller one that sat next to it and finally to the ground. Once there he could roll the jar anywhere he had a mind to and hide until the Germans left. Looking down he swallowed the fear that had come up into his throat. He would need a good running start if he was going to make it.

"What's he doing now?" The Skipper asked, fighting the ropes and only succeeding in rubbing his wrists raw.

"I can't tell." Mary Ann said. "He's clear at one end of the table and I can't see that far." She tried to bend over further but the doorframe still blocked her view. "Oh, wait. He's coming back, walking clear to the other end…oh, now he's running back the other way." The young woman's brown eyes went wide with realization. "Oh, no! I think…I think he's going to jump of the table!"

"The boy's gone mad!"

Gilligan ran as hard and as fast as he could, the sound of the rolling jar thundering around him and the glass distorting his view of the world outside. This was his only chance. It had to work!

"If that jar breaks with him in it he'll be cut to ribbons!" The Professor announced, horrified at what their young friend was attempting.

"Gilligan stop! Don't do it Little Buddy!" The Skipper's call was joined by others as all the castaways began shouting at the top of their voices.

"No, my boy!"

"Stop!"

"Gilligan, please don't!"

But the orders and pleas went completely unheard.

Their frantic warnings were cut off by the sound of shattering glass.


	17. Odds and Freedom

_**17. Odds and Freedom**_

_6:50 PM day 3_

The Skipper sagged against the bamboo pole, the sound of breaking glass echoing in his ears. This was his fault. He was the captain. These people, all of them, were his passengers and crew. It was his duty to watch out for them. He had failed both. He had been completely useless, only able to stand by and watch as his first mate was trapped, the Professor injured, all of them harshly restrained and now… He didn't even want to think of what had happened to Gilligan. None of them had been able to see what had occured but the sound had been unmistakable. A fall from that height, a thousand shards of razor sharp glass, he squeezed his eyes shut not even trying to push the graphic picture from his mind. The Skipper couldn't imagine a worse way to lose a friend.

"Oooh, poor Gilligan!" Mary Ann squeaked before bursting into tears. She was quickly joined by Ginger and Mrs. Howell.

"The dear lad was so young!" The heiress said between cultured sniffles.

The Professor interrupted this sudden display of emotion. "Hold on now! We can't give up hope."

Mary Ann managed to sniff back the tears long enough to reply. "But you said that if he was in the jar when it broke he would…" She simply couldn't finish the sentence.

"I know what I said." The shock of what had been happening caused him to speak before truly evaluating his words. He now regretted it. "But we can't give up on him! It's conceivable that he survived. If he escaped the sharp edges…" He knew that the odds of Gilligan missing every piece of glass were astronomical. But that didn't keep him from hoping. He had observed over their four-year exile that mathematical probabilities had nothing on Gilligan. The young man had been through many a death-dealing situation and come out relatively unscathed.

"The fall alone would have killed him!" The Skipper shot back feeling that his friend was grasping at straws. The last thing he wanted was false hope.

The Professor shook his head. "Not necessarily. Height and size are relative but gravity is constant. An object's weight directly influences the effect of gravity. Gilligan's significantly reduced mass would lessen the pull of the earth's gravimetric forces thus diminishing the severity of impact. You see?"

Five faces stared blankly at him.

"How reassuring." Mr. Howell quipped, obviously not having understood a word.

Mary Ann's dark brows furrowed in thought. "I think I understand what he's trying to say." She said cautiously. "I've seen a mouse jump off a bookshelf and not be hurt at all. Since it's so small it's not as heavy and doesn't hit the ground very hard."

"Exactly!"

"You…you mean there really is a chance?" The Skipper felt a bit of hope beginning to overshadow the grief and despair he had been wallowing in only a moment ago.

"A chance. And if he did survive he is most likely injured. Which is why it is still essential for us to escape _before_ our captors return for him." If circumstances had been different it would have been wiser to wait until Seigfried and Starker had left the island before attempting escape. But Gilligan needed their help, most likely medically as well as to liberate him from an unpleasant future as a guinea pig.

"That's all well and good, Professor." Mr. Howell said, not even attempting to fight the ropes that tied his hands. "But any potential venture is useless without a plan of action. You do have one don't you?"

The helpless look on the Professor's face revealed plainly that he did not. His eyebrows came together intensely as he surveyed the room. Their hands were bound but their feet were not. "If we could reach something sharp…"

Consciousness gradually worked itself into Gilligan's mind and he let out a low pained moan. He had been hit by a train. That was the only possible explanation he could come up with for the way he felt. No…first he was hit by a train then run over by a bulldozer and finally trampled by a herd of angry elephants. He wondered vaguely how a freight train had come to the island. Probably washed up in the lagoon, he decided.

His eyes slowly flickered open to see a patch of clear blue sky rimmed by palm trees. Mr. Howell's building-sized suitcases and the underside of the table took up the upper corner of his vision. He blinked a couple times, trying to make the slightly warped image solidify. It didn't work.

With a grunt of effort he tried to sit up but only managed to get halfway.

_Klunk_

"Ow!" He leaned back on his elbow and rubbed his forehead where it had come into contact with a solid surface. He reached a hand up and touched a cool, smooth arch. The large, curved piece of glass lay over him like an oblong bubble. With a grunt and a firm kick it flipped over into the sand beside him. All around him lay huge pieces of glass. Curved shards sparkled in the evening light, looking like bones from a giant crystalline rib cage.

He looked up at the suitcases and the table, everything flooding back into his mind. As he stared at the dizzying height he couldn't believe that he had been crazy enough to try that jump. Now he recalled the sickening feeling as the table disappeared from beneath his feet and the horrible realization that he was too far to the right. The last thing he remembered was the hard corner of the suitcase flying up at him and then the world splintering into a million pieces.

He began to stand, putting a hand on the ground to lever himself up, but the instant he put pressure on it fire exploded inside his wrist. With a yelp he grabbed it with his other hand and it close to his chest. The pain quickly subsided to a dull throb. He was startled to see that his wrist was much thicker than it should have been and slightly discolored. It was broken, he realized with shock. How would he ever tie another knot? Much to his relief he found that all his fingers still worked, although the last two moved with some difficulty.

Two heavily accented voices snapped his head up.

"Dumkoff, I said '_don't_ let go'! _Don't_!"

"I'm sorry, Seigfried. It slipped. Everybody's allowed a mistake now and zen."

"Not in KAOS! Zat machine is so heavy I'm lucky I still have all my fingers."

They were coming back for him! He leaped to his feet, taking in a small gasp as he realized he had pulled something in his foot too, although it wasn't bad enough that he couldn't dismiss it out of hand. His head whipped around, his body following in a full spin, his mind screaming _run and hide, run and hide._ One of Mr. Howell's suitcases leaned against the other, creating a triangular tunnel between them. Instantly he bolted toward the opening, all but diving into the dark space. Crouching back against the wall he watched through the gap as two pairs of black leather boots came into view.

The castaways inside the hut had made no significant progress toward escape when they heard the two Germans enter the clearing outside.

"Oh, no! They're back already!" The Skipper felt his heart sink. He had fought the ropes fiercely, hoping to snap them. But even with his great strength and effort the cord was simply too thick.

"The fiends!" Mr. Howell spat contemptuously.

"Seigfried, look! Ze jar!" Starker exclaimed. Mary Ann could see him hurry to the far side of the table and crouch down, but the doorframe still blocked her view of where the jar had actually fallen.

"Vell zat's just peachy!" Seigfried let out an irritated huff and shoved his black-gloved fists on his hips.

"Do you think ve should…?"

"Forget it. He's not worth ze trouble." He did a crisp about face and marched back towards the jungle with Starker following at his heels. "Ve'll just tell ze lab about it. Now let's get zis assignment over with!"

There was a poignant hush in the hut as the words of the two departing men settled on the six castaways. It sounded bad the Professor knew. But the discussion could be taken two ways. He hated to even consider the first and most likely possibility, that Gilligan was dead and in that condition would not help to prove the machine's ability to safely shrink personnel. The second, that their young friend had been unharmed enough to get up and hide making the search for him not worth while, unfortunately struck the Professor as highly improbable considering the fall he had taken. Either way once the six of them discovered some way to get loose they would find out.

Once he was sure the two Germans were gone Gilligan blew out the breath he had been holding. He had been sure they would start turning things over to look for him. "I never thought they were gonna leave." He said to himself as he crept out of his hiding place. His ankle gave him a slight limp and he was certain that if he took his clothes off he would discover that his entire body was one big bruise but the only real sharp pain was in his right wrist and it only hurt if he moved it. But at the moment none of the pain mattered. He was finally out of that dumb jar!

He tried to hold his hand still as he hurried across the clearing, carefully avoiding the field of broken glass. Without having to duck he slipped under the bamboo door and into the hut. His six restrained friends towered over him and he had to hold his hat and crane his neck to look up them. They were too deep in conversation to look down and notice him standing there.

"But there _is_ a chance!" The Professor was saying with conviction "And we have to hold onto that until…"

"The Professor's right!" Mary Ann gave an emphatic nod, bouncing her ponytails. "We've got to believe he's alive."

Ginger mumbled something about Pollyanna that wasn't quite intelligible.

"Couldn't we liberate ourselves first and continue this debate over a glass of bubbly?"

Gilligan let out a small chuckle then raised his voice a bit so they could all hear him. "Y'know I was gonna invite you all to a party now that those guys are gone. But that's okay. I can see that you're all tied up."


	18. Hopeless

_**18. Hopeless**_

_7:10 PM day 3_

"_GilliganLittleBuddy_!" The Skipper exclaimed in one word, amazed and elated to see his tiny first mate standing in the doorway. "You're alright!"

"Oh, Gilligan, we thought we'd never see you again!"

"Alive." The millionaire added tactlessly. "My boy, we thought you had become a pincushion."

"_Mr. Howell_!" The Skipper shot an angry look at the rich man. The graphic mental image of what he thought had happened to his Little Buddy still lingered in his mind and the thoughtless description had not helped it dissipate.

"No." Gilligan replied to the millionaire's comment. "I don't even know how to sew."

"We're so glad you're okay."

"Indeed. We were all quite concerned."

"Yes, Dear." The feathers on Mrs. Howell's hat fluttered as she nodded. "We were at the end of our rope wondering what had happened to you."

Gilligan couldn't help smile a little at the heart-felt sentiments. Usually when the whole group spoke to him at once he was usually getting hollered at over some mistake he made.

"Speaking of rope." Mr. Howell shrugged a bit in a display of discomfort. "I would like to get out of these blasted bonds some time before the next recession."

"If only I had my pocket knife." The Skipper shook his head in frustration. "But I was sharpening it earlier and left it on the table." He nodded toward the small table on which also stood a candle and Gilligan's matchbox.

"You could climb up there, couldn't you Gilligan?" Ginger asked hopefully.

"Of course he can! My Little Buddy can climb like a monkey."

Gilligan looked up at the table dubiously. The chair that he had climbed down that morning was still there. The chair legs were simply to thick for him to shimmy up but if he could find something to stand on to reach the grass skirting around the bottom of the chair he might be able to pull himself up. "I can try."

They watched as he went straight to a brown paper bag that sat in the corner of the hut. He disappeared into the opening and the bag rattled as he rummaged around inside. He emerged moments later pushing an empty turtle shell in front of him. "I found this on the beach last week." He explained, maneuvering it under the chair's grass fringe. "I'm kinda glad the turtle lost it." After climbing on top of it he reached up with is right hand and took a firm hold on one of the stiff blades. With a small hop he pulled himself up and lifted his left arm to hoist himself further but the moment his fist tightened he screamed, released his grip and tumbled backwards off the shell and into the sand.

"Are you alright, Little Buddy?" The fall hadn't particularly worried the Skipper. Gilligan had taken far worse spills than that, including the one off the table. But his first mate's pained yell had him concerned.

Gilligan didn't reply at first, just sat on the ground waiting for the fire in his wrist to fade. He had known better than to try. But his friends needed him. He had hoped that he would be strong enough, brave enough to swallow the pain. "I'm sorry." His voice was just barely loud enough to hear. If only he hadn't landed that dumb machine!

Mary Ann saw the complete defeat in the young man's posture. "Don't give up, Gilligan! You can do it."

"If at first you don't succeed make a better offer."

"Hold on a second." The Professor put a halt to the encouragement, noting the way the tiny sailor was holding his left hand. "Gilligan, is there something wrong with your arm?"

He nodded slowly, guilt rimming his blue eyes. "It's broken. I don't think I can climb up there."

"Don't feel bad, Gilligan." Mary Ann said. "It's not your fault."

The Professor let out a small sigh. Their predicament was indeed frustrating but he didn't expect Gilligan to do the impossible. After all he of all people could understand the young man's pain. "We'll just have to think of another way."

"Maybe we could burn the rope off." Gilligan suggested. "One summer Skinny Mulligan got this brand new magnifying glass, one of the real fancy ones like Sherlock Holmes has. Anyway it was a really sunny day and we were playin' around with it at school and we both ended up in detention."

The Skipper looked dubious. "For playing with a magnifying glass?"

"That's what I said! Besides, it wasn't like we burned down the school or anything. Just that one book."

"That's it!" The Professor cried, revelation having exploded on his face.

Mr. Howell raised a skeptical eyebrow. "If I'm not mistaken, we don't have access to a magnifying glass and even if we did the inside of this hut is not exactly the sunniest spot on the island."

"No. The key word is 'glass'!"

"The jar!" Shouted several castaways at once.

"Exactly! A fragment of glass could undoubtedly sever these bonds."

Gilligan nodded excitedly. "Yeah, and it oughtta cut the rope too!" He hurried out the door and came back a few minutes later pulling a large triangular shard. It was quite a bit larger than he was and left a clean little trail as he dragged it across the sand.

"Well, come on, Gilligan. Hand it here!"

Gilligan stared up at the Skipper's hands so far above his head. "Anybody got a stepladder?"

"Oh, right." Leaning against the pole he was tied to the Skipper lowered himself until he was sitting on the sand, his bound hands nearly touching the ground. Careful to only use his good hand Gilligan maneuvered the glass until it was within reach of the Skipper's fingers.

_7:27 PM day 3_

"Thanks, Skipper." Ginger rubbed the red rings around her wrists as the Skipper finished untying her and moved to Mary Ann. The movie star moved over to where Gilligan now stood on the small card table. The captain had put him up there so he wouldn't have to crane his neck to talk to anyone. "And thank _you_, Gilligan." She bent down, bringing her face uncomfortably close to the minute first mate.

He shrugged, taking a couple steps back. Ginger had always made him nervous. Now that she was a hundred times bigger than he was he found her that much more intimidating. "It was nuthin'"

"Oh, but it wasn't. If it weren't for you who knows how long we would have been trapped in here." She kissed the tip of her finger and pointed it down toward him.

He scrambled backwards and tripped over a stray pencil. Unable to escape he simply cringed as she tapped him on the head, transferring that kiss from her finger to him.

"You alright Professor?" The Skipper put a steadying hand on the high school teacher's shoulder, keeping the man from wobbling.

He dismissed the assistance with a wave. "I'm alright. Just a bit lightheaded."

Mr. Howell looked from the Professor who had one hand clamped tightly over his upper arm to Gilligan who was gently cradling his wrist. "You know, Professor, if you were Gillian's size you two would make a handsome pair of salt shakers." He chuckled a bit at his own joke. "As for the rest of us…" He massaged the red, chaffed skin around his wrist. "We make a perfect six-piece set. If I had to join a club that required identification bracelets why couldn't they have been gold?"

"Hey, listen!"

"It's the boat. They're leaving!"

Only a few minutes later the Skipper halted at the edge of the water, Gilligan in one hand and the Professor at his heels. The lagoon was empty. Even the waves from the boat's wake were quickly dissipating. "Well, they're gone."

Gilligan took his hat off and waved it above his head. "Yahooo!"

"Good riddance." The Skipper said with a nod and a snort.

"I must say…" Mrs. Howell emerged from the jungle and came up behind them. "I'm not terribly sorry to see them go."

"Maybe they'll change their minds and tell someone about us." Mary Ann said hopefully as she too joined the group.

Mr. Howell laughed. "In the words of the younger set: 'fat chance'!"

The Professor simply stared as the wavelets grew smaller until the lagoon was completely still. He let out a deep sigh, brow furrowed with mixed emotions. On one hand he was very relieved to see such a horrible danger leave. However, along with those two men had gone Gilligan's last hope to ever be normal again and he felt deeply for his young friend.

_8:00 PM day 3_

"Ow!" Gilligan was back once more on the table in the supply hut. Several candles and a mirror brightened the room, giving it a homey feel despite the darkness outside.

"It wouldn't hurt as much if you would just hold still." The Professor frowned in deep concentration as he held Gilligan's arm, about half as big around as a pencil, between his thumb and forefinger. To even be able to see it properly he had to use his thick magnifying glass.

The instant they had arrived back at camp the Professor's wound had been the first thing attended too. He had insisted on doing most of the tending himself, using a bit of Mr. Howell's champagne as a disinfectant. Once cleaned it looked far less serious. There was clear entry and exit point about two inches apart. The bullet had managed to graze the muscle but, as he had assured the others, there was no extensive or permanent damage besides an obvious scar. As long as he kept it clean and clear of infection he wasn't too worried. After having the area bandaged and exchanging his bloodstained shirt for a clean one he had turned his attention to Gilligan.

The fall had left the boy black and blue with a pulled ligament in his ankle, injuries that were mildly painful but little more. His wrist, however was by now quite swollen and was several shades of red and purple.

Gilligan yelped again, jerking his hand away from the Professor's fingers and held it close to him with a look that clearly said he was done being examined. "It's broken isn't it." It was more a statement than a question.

The Professor sighed, and set his magnifying glass on the table beside him. "With your size it's rather difficult to tell the severity of the injury but I believe you do indeed have a distal radius fracture."

Gilligan's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no! I thought all I had was a broken wrist! Now I have a distal radius fracture!"

"Gilligan, a distal radius fracture _is_ a broken wrist."

"Well, why didn't you just say so?"

"We'll have to make you a cast." He began to stand, rocking the table slightly as he did so. The magnifying glass toppled over the edge and landed in the sand beside his chair. He reached down to pick it up, bumping his arm on the table as he did so. His eyes squinted shut and he took in a sharp breath. A hand went to the bandage near his shoulder. He let out a small grunt that sounded like an even mixture of pain and frustration.

"You alright Professor?"

As the pain subsided he smiled at the expression of intense concern on Gilligan's boyish face. "I'll be alright."

"At least you get a scar out of it." Gilligan said, as if that somehow justified the pain.

The Professor cocked an eyebrow at the comment. "I will indeed."

"So when can you make me big again?"

The abruptness of the question caught the Professor by surprise. "That machine was the lone remedy your situation." He shook his head apologetically. "They took it with them."

"Couldn't you just build another one?"

The Professor felt his throat tighten just a bit at the boy's complete and naive faith in his abilities. He wished he could live up to them. His head shook slowly. "Gilligan…" He sighed, and started again. "Gilligan, I can't lie to you."

Gilligan did not like the grave tone of the man's voice. "Lie to me, Professor! Lie to me!"

He shook his head. "Gilligan, I don't even understand the principal physics involved."

"But you made it work! You made me stop shrinking."

"That was the result of trial and error. Comprehending the control panel is a far cry from reconstructing the internal mechanisms. Making another machine, it's…" He was going to say 'impossible'. He had planned on saying that even if he did understand the underlying physics, which he didn't, both the reduction and renlargement effects were most likely the result of electrical and chemical reactions stemming from the utilization of specific compounds. The likelihood of every one of those components being found on this remote island was inconceivable. But that's not what he said. As he looked into the young man's pleading, nearly panic-stricken face he found himself saying. "I'll try."

_9:00 PM day 3_

Gilligan lay awake, staring into the vast darkness that surrounded him. The day had been unbelievably stressful…for everyone. After a very quick dinner of diced fruit all seven exhausted castaways eagerly went to bed. But Gilligan couldn't sleep. He picked absently at the dried clay that formed a cast around his left arm, keeping his wrist ridged. The matchbox bed was quite warm and comfortable, softer even than his grandma's feather bed. But he missed his hammock; the way it swayed slightly, rocking him to sleep.

"Skipper?"

The reply was a tired: "Hmm?"

"Am I going to be this small forever?"

There was a long pause before the Skipper replied, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "The Professor said he'd work on it. He'll think of something."

Gilligan swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "Yeah." He had seen the look on the Professor's face and heard the apology in his voice when he had promised to try and rebuild the machine. The hopelessness had been plain to see. And now, despite the encouraging words he could hear that hopelessness echoed in the sound of the Skipper's voice. The young first mate may have been optimistic and overly naive but even he realized that life as he knew it was at an end. He was going to be tiny and useless for the rest of his days.

Nothing was ever going to be the same. His mind began listing all the things that he would never be able to do again. He would never be able to hunt butterflies with Mary Ann, could never enjoy the thrill of catching a big fish. Caddying for Mr. Howell would be completely out of the question. Even taking an afternoon stroll or exploring the jungle would be fraught with danger. But the worst cut of all involved the position that he cherished more than anything. He was no longer the first mate. Sure the Skipper would never tell him that but it was true nonetheless. All his duties were now impossible and without responsibility the title meant nothing.

Hot liquid settled in the corner of his eyes and his chest tightened. One lone tear slipped down his face as he stifled a sob he didn't want the Skipper to hear.


	19. Curiouser and Curiouser

_**19. Curiouser and Curiouser**_

Gilligan sat on a large rock at the edge of the lagoon, fishing pole held loosely in his hands. The simple carefree atmosphere coated the little desert isle like sugar on a gumdrop. He stared absently at the little cork bobber that floated on the surface, uninterrupted by the lazy fish that swam just below. He sat back against the trunk of a palm, just enjoying the sunlight and not particularly caring if he got a bite or not.

There was a fluttering sound just behind him and he started a bit as a pretty little bird in a pink, checkered gingham dress alit on his shoulder. "Pardon me." The little creature said politely in a voice he was sure he had heard before. "But do you have the time?"

"Uhhh." He glanced down at his Manny Moose watch. "Half past three."

"Oh, dear. I'm late!" The little creature flitted into the bushes and reappeared a moment later decked in full scuba gear, miniaturized to fit her birdie stature perfectly.

"Late for what?" Gilligan asked, as he watched her hop to the edge of the rock.

"I can't talk now!" With that the bird placed the breathing apparatus over its beak and dove into the water.

"Hey, wait!" Gilligan called after it, his curiosity piqued to the limit. What could a bird possibly be late for? And where in the world did she get a scuba mask that small? He began to stand to wave her back but his foot slipped and he tumbled off the rock, landing with a big 'splash' in the lagoon. A school of little fishes parted and dropped their schoolbooks as he sank deeper into the water. The biggest fish, possibly a large mouth bass, swam up near his face and scolded him for interrupting class.

He was about to apologize when he saw the little bird who had asked about the time swimming off in the other direction, flapping her little wings, flying easily under the water. With a kick of his feet he started off after her. "Wait! Where are you going?"

Gilligan, having been in the Navy, could swim quite fast. But the little bird in the dress was faster and soon it disappeared from sight. But he kept swimming. Hoping to catch up. "Excuse me." He asked a passing seal. "But did you see a bird? She's a bout this big." He held his thumb and forefinger about three inches apart. "And she's wearing a little pink dress."

The seal nodded and pointed up with one webbed flipper.

"Thanks." Gilligan swam upward until he broke the surface of a small pool. He frowned a bit. _Wasn't I just in the ocean a second ago?_ After a second thought he realized _Skipper always said that all water leads to the ocean so it would follow that all oceans lead to a somewhere too. This must be it. _With an indifferent shrug he climbed out of the water and onto the sandy floor of a dark cave. Several large torches blazed along the walls, illuminating the stone in an eerie orange glow. He removed his hat and tried to ring as much water out as possible before placing it back on his head.

"Oh, bird!" He called, his voice echoing off the cave walls and coming right back at him. "I just want to talk to you!" As he made a circle he realized that he was at some kind of junction for tunnels splintered off in four different directions. "How am I ever going to find her?"

"Why don't you follow the tracks?" He was only slightly startled to hear his echo reply.

"What tracks?"

"Look down." His own voice replied.

"Huh?" He glanced down to see little birdie footprints in the sand. They led off into the tunnel on his right. "Hey, thanks!" He called as he began to follow them.

"Your welcome. Your welcome. Your welcome."

_Maybe the Skipper's right. _Gilligan thought as he moved deeper into the cave. _I do talk to myself too much._

He wasn't sure how long he had followed the petite little tracks when suddenly he turned a corner and ran into a wall. At first he thought he had come to a dead end, then he saw the little door at the base of the stone wall, down near the sandy floor. It was only a foot and a half tall and perhaps somewhat less wide. The door was made of little bamboo bars and he could easily see outside. For outside was exactly what was on the other side of the door.

He could see trees, blue sky and little birds flitting about and one that wore a little pink dress. "Hey!" He called after it, trying mightily to fit through the little door but only managing to get his head and one arm through. "Little bird! Come back!"

"I can't talk now!" It called over its shoulder as it flew down into the trees, following a quaint path that he could see weaving it's way through the foliage. "It'll burn!"

Gillian found that that tiny bit of extra information fired his curiosity even further. "What will burn?" But it was too late, the little creature had flown out of sight. Struggling a bit more he tried to squeeze through the small opening, but it was no use. He was just too big. With a defeated sigh he pulled himself backward into the cave. "Maybe if I try going in backwards." He said to himself.

"That'll never work." His echo replied.

Gilligan frowned at his own disembodied voice. "How come?"

"Because going backwards will only take you to places you've already been. You want to go forwards to places you haven't."

"I guess so. But how else am I gonna fit in that hole?"

"Why don't you have a drink?"

Gilligan started as a tall bamboo glass, complete with straw and little umbrella appeared beside him. He could have sworn it hadn't been there before. "Well, I am kinda thirsty." He lifted the glass and took a cautious sip. "Hey, this is pretty good! Tastes like root beer." The cave grew a bit, and he took another sip. "Mmm, Coca-Cola." The flavor changed each time, as did the size of his surroundings. "Grape soda, strawberry malt, hot chocolate." He took in gasp as he realized suddenly that the glass he was holding had grown to the size of a large bucket. The container slipped from his hands as he looked about him in astonishment. The cave, where moments before he had to stoop to keep from bumping his head, now rose like a cathedral far above him. Turning abruptly he saw with some elation that the bamboo door was now exactly the right height for him to easily walk through.

Eagerly throwing the door open he hurried down the little jungle path, hoping if he ran fast enough he could catch up to the little bird.

It wasn't long before he came upon a small clearing. "Excuse me." He said to a large walrus in a black captain's hat and a blue shirt. "But did you see a little bird in a pink dress fly by here?"

"Why, of course I did, Little Buddy!" The Walrus gave him a hardy slap on the back that nearly sent him sprawling. "You know, that reminds me of a story. Once there was a…"

"Listen, I really don't have time to sit and chat. If she gets too far ahead I'll never find her. So if you could just tell me which way—"

"Belay that!" The Walrus bellowed, pushing him down onto the nearest log.

Gilligan shook his head and began to rise. "But I've really got to go."

"You just sit down and shut up. That's an order!"

Gilligan flinched and sat back down.

The walrus gestured with one enormous flipper and began to sing. "Oooooooh, who lives in a pineapple under the sea…?"

One side of Gilligan's face scrunched up. "How can anybody live in a pineapple? Your floors and walls would be all sticky."

The walrus paused a moment and frowned. "You know you're right. I never thought about that. It is kind of a ridiculous story when you think about it. Here's one I think you'll like. Everyone can learn something from this one!" And once again he began a spirited narration. "Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale. A tale of a fateful trip…"

Gilligan had no choice but to sit and listen. But after awhile the walrus became so wrapped up in his own storytelling that he completely forgot that Gilligan was there and the first mate was able to slip away without the walrus noticing. He continued down the path, running now, trying to make up for the time he had lost.

The path turned and twisted, folded in on itself and tied itself into knots that even a sailor like Gilligan couldn't unravel and before he knew it he was hopelessly lost. He paused for a moment to catch his breath as well as his bearings, both of which were doing their best to elude him.

There had to be some way to figure out where he was. Something he remembered as a cub scout surfaced in his mind. You could always tell were you were by what side of the tree the moss was growing. He stepped over to the nearest tree and examined the green growth on the trunk very carefully.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you it's rude to stare!" The moss said indignantly.

"Yes." Gilligan said, not finding a conversation with a blob of green plant life the least bit odd. "But I need to find out where I am and how to get where I'm going."

"What do you think I am an atlas? There's a map right over there!"

Gilligan looked and indeed there was a large sign with words and squiggly lines painted all over it. He moved over to look more closely. Right in the center of the map was a little red dot, above the dot were the words: 'You are here'. Beneath the same dot read: 'Not in Kansas anymore.'

Gilligan frowned as he analyzed the map for a long moment. It reminded him of one of the drawings from his two year-old cousin, with colored lines twisting wildly in each and every direction. Randomly about the map other locations were labeled: There, Yonder, Elsewhere, Nowhere, Anywhere, Point B.

He cocked his head to the right, then the left and finally bent to one side so he could look at the map upside down. It still didn't make any sense. After several minutes of this took off his cap and scratched his head in confusion. "You've got to be double jointed just to read this thing."

"Having a little trouble?" A breathy voice purred.

Gilligan looked up and was quite startled to see a seductive grin hovering just above the map. He glanced around quickly, looking for the person who had so carelessly misplaced their mouth. "Uh, are you lost?" He asked, thinking that maybe it was searching for the face it belonged to.

"Me?" It let out a distinctively feminine chuckle. "No, silly boy. But you seem to be." Slowly two flirting green eyes faded into view above the mouth. The three facial features leaped down to about waist level and the long eyelashes fluttered. "You could use a bit of guiding direction or so it would…appear." A face gradually took shape and body followed and soon Gilligan found himself conversing with a shapely ginger-colored cat. The sultry creature was nearly waist high which startled him at first, before he remembered that the concoction he had drank in the cave had made him smaller.

"Say, that's a pretty neat trick! I guess I could use a little help." He admitted.

She licked a paw and combed one ear before gracefully tossing her head. "I thought so. Someone who's turning their head upside down to look at a map is all but begging for direction."

"So which way should I go?" Gilligan looked at the many paths that separated ahead of him. The choice was quite daunting and he was glad to have a bit of help, even if it was from a cat.

"That all depends…" She circled him slowly, almost stalkingly. "…on where you're going."

"I don't really know." He said honestly. "I haven't been there yet."

She flicked one pretty red ear. "Well, then it doesn't matter which way you go." The ginger feline began to slink away, her petite paws beginning to fade from view.

"Hey, wait!" Gilligan called before she disappeared completely. "I was looking for a little bird in a pink dress."

"Oh?" She stopped, her feet swirling back into existence. "Well, you could visit the Mad Hat Lady down that path." She flicked her long silky tail to the right.

Gilligan glanced in that direction. "I donno." He mumbled uncertainly. "She's mad, you say?"

The cat shrugged. "Well, if you don't want to see her you could always visit the March Heir in that direction." Her flowing tail swished to the left.

"I think I'll go see him."

"Of course he's mad too."

"He is? Um…is there anyone around her who isn't mad?"

"Not really." She gave him a smile and a giggle that sent shivers up from his toes. "We're all mad here."

"I didn't do it. Honest!"

"Do what?"

"Whatever everybody's mad about."

The cat rolled her sparkling green eyes. "Silly boy, they're not mad at you."

"Whew. That's a relief."

"I hope you find what you're looking for." She rubbed a furry shoulder against him before gliding away, the back half of her gradually disappearing like a wisp of smoke.

"Wait." Gilligan called after her, suddenly nervous about being left in this tangled maze all alone. "Where are you going?"

When she answered she had shrunk to nothing but a head and shoulders. "To London to visit the Queen. I'm giving a command performance for her, you know." By the time she had finished speaking she had vanished, leaving only her sultry smile behind.

"Hey, Cat!" He hollered into the dark jungle surrounding him. "You forgot something!" Turning in a slow circle he wondered just where the feminine feline had gone and how she was going to eat without her mouth. By the time he had turned back even the smile had gone.

Pursing his lips he pondered the paths before him. He really did want to see where that bird had gone but on the other hand if he wandered too far he might not get home in time for dinner and he certainly didn't want to miss the coconut crème pie he knew Mary Ann was baking. And the Skipper would get sore if the water barrel wasn't full before evening.

With a shrug he took the path to the right. If he didn't find what he was looking for soon he would just turn around and retrace his steps. It wasn't long before he came across a sign: 'Country Club'. _Which country?_ Gilligan wondered as he continued on to another sign: 'Exclusive'. And another: 'Reservation Only'. Finally he came upon a large door. _No._ He corrected himself. _A regular sized door. Just big to me._ He really needed to get big again. He knocked politely and waited for an answer.

"Oh, dear." He heard someone say. "We're not ready for company."

"Just ignore them and they'll go away. This is a private club anyway."

"But we simply can't be rude! It's bad manners. Come in!"

Gilligan opened the door a crack and peeked inside. A petite little table dressed in a lace tablecloth, an expensive looking little tea set sitting on top, was surrounded by a lush garden. There was also a very large blue hat bedecked with ribbons and bows that weaved about amid feathers and flowers of every color. A cultured-looking woman sat daintily beneath it, teacup in hand and white-gloved pinky extended. "Come in!" She repeated beckoning him with a hand that sparkled with diamonds rivaling the crown jewels. "You're just in time for tea."

"Indeed. It's nearly half past." Said a large stuffy rabbit in the chair beside her. He wore a silk cravat and the letters 'MH' were monogrammed in gold script on the left breast of his navy blazer.

"Half past what?" Gilligan asked, stepping in a bit further.

" 'Half past what' he says. The boy is obviously a Yale man!"

Ignoring the hare's huffieness the lady smiled sweetly at him. "Do have some tea, Dear."

Gilligan shook his head. "Thanks. But I really don't have time for tea."

"Don't be absurd! One always has time for tea."

"Yes! Tee time!" The March Heir, whipped a golf ball from his blazer pocket and set it upon an upside down tea cup. He grabbed a spoon, leaped up onto the table and swung it like a golf club. "Eight!"

Gilligan watched as the golf ball soared off and disappeared into the depths of the garden. "I thought golfers were supposed to yell 'fore'."

"Yes, well I'm twice as good as your average golfer."

The Hat Lady nodded, bouncing all the flowers and feathers in her gigantic hat. "He always hits it through the uprights. Now won't you sit and have a cup of tea?"

_I guess one cup of tea wouldn't hurt_. Gilligan thought. The chair was about chest high and it took only a bit of effort to climb into the seat.

"So, where did you come from?" The Hat Lady asked conversationally.

"My mother." Gilligan replied automatically.

"No, dear boy." She smiled at the misunderstanding. "I mean from which direction have you traveled."

"Oh, that way...or…" Gilligan frowned a bit, retracting the finger he had used to point. "…or was it that way? I'm not quite sure which way I came from. I'm kinda mixed up."

"Than you'll feel right at home around here." The March Heir said, trying to putt a sugar cube into the little pitcher of cream.

"That's actually why I came by. I wanted to ask you a question."

"Just a moment!" The Heir puffed his chest out importantly. "I ask the questions around here."

Gilligan clamped his mouth shut instantly, intimidated by the rabbit that was nearly larger than he was.

"How is your credit, my boy? Do you have insurance? When's the last time you took out a loan?" He slapped the spoon he was holding into the palm of his hand with each question.

"Fatso Flannigan loaned me his slingshot once." Gilligan replied. "When we had this bottle shooting contest. But one side of the band was longer than the other and it never really shot right unless you managed to find a lopsided rock."

"Nonsense!" The long eared creature huffed, turning to the Hat Lady for support. "The lad is full of complete nonsense."

"Well, maybe he's just thirsty." She turned to Gilligan. "Have some more tea."

"But I haven't had any yet. How can I have more?"

"Dear boy, less _is_ more."

"Huh?"

"Just have some tea, will you?" The March Heir ordered.

Gilligan jumped slightly at the harsh tone. There were two teapots in the center of the table, both ceramic and intricately decorated. He lifted the one on the left and with some difficulty poured the steaming brown liquid into a cup that, considering his size, was about as large as a soup bowl. He took a quick sip, hoping to escape these two as quickly as possible and find someone who could actually help him. His face instantly scrunched up at the unbearably bitter taste.

The Hat Lady's blue eyes widened. "No! Dear boy, that's coffee!"

"Coffee?" Gilligan wondered why things were suddenly getting bigger again.

She shook her head, the movement ruffling all the ornaments on her outrageous hat. "Coffee is a morning beverage." She wagged a finger at him as if he had just committed some major social error.

Gilligan looked around himself in horror as things continued to grow. "Hey, what's happening?" His voice squeaked. He was now looking straight up at the underside of the table.

"Don't you know?" The Heir sniffed.

"Why, coffee stunts your growth. Everybody knows that." The Hat Lady waved a sparkling hand.

"What am I going to do? I'll never find my way home this small! I need to get big again."

"I can't help you there." The March Heir peered down at him. "I am an expert on inflation but I'm afraid not the kind you need. Besides…" He glanced down at a gold pocket watch. "I do believe we have an engagement."

"Oh!" The Hat Lady rose from the table, now towering far above the little first mate. "You're absolutely right. It just wouldn't do to be late for our lunch with the Queen." She looked down at him. "If you would be so kind as to excuse us."

"Wait!" Gilligan called after them but they quickly disappeared, arm in arm into the neatly trimmed garden. He let out a huge sigh, realizing it was hopeless.

He sat there for a long moment trying to figure out what to do next. If he wandered any further especially as small as he was he might get lost further. But he wasn't going to get any closer to home just sitting where he was either. "If I say here I'm gonna get nowhere. And I'd rather be anywhere than nowhere." With that he began to climb down, the wicker weave of the chair making a perfect ladder down to the ground.

He chose the direction that he felt was most likely to take him home and started off determinedly. The garden rose up all about him. Huge stalks of green and splashes of bright color surrounded him like a surreal forest. The feeling of insignificance was giving him an intense sense of deja vu. As he walked further into the dense jungle of flowers a chill ran up his spine. He was being watched. There was movement off to his left but when he looked there was nothing but green. Rustling to his right made him jump but he saw nothing there either. A flash of red, the snap of a twig and Gilligan felt his adrenaline rush into his head. He was ready to bolt any second. "H-hello?" He managed in a shaky voice. "Is anybody there?" He didn't really expect a response but he certainly got one.

Out from behind a large lily gingerly stepped a red game piece. On bare feet the checker slowly approached, it's shiny plastic surface glinting in the sunlight. It lowered the large spear in its right hand as it stepped right up to Gilligan, it's top barely reaching the first mate's chin. It spoke to him in a language he could not understand.

"Um…hi." He gave a small nervous wave, not quite sure what else to do.

The checker said something else in native gibberish then looked into the surrounding garden and beckoned expansively. Countless red checkers emerged from behind nearly every plant, and cautiously approached him, all of them chattering incomprehensibly. He soon found himself completely surrounded. Many of the game pieces carried sharp knives or spears, all painted bright red but none of them made any threatening moves. In fact they seemed more curious than anything, many of them poking him and tugging at his shirt.

"Unga bunga wanini." Said the first checker as it grabbed his hand pointed into the dense undergrowth.

Gilligan allowed himself to be led forward by the talking game piece, all the other checkers following close behind. "Where are we going?"

"Dodo umpa."

"I've never been there before. Is it anywhere near a little island in the South Pacific?"

The reply came in incomprehensible gibberish.

They walked for a long time, maneuvering beneath a stand of foxgloves, a field of daisies and carefully avoided a thorny bed of roses until they came to a clearing where many more checker people greeted them. There had to be at least a hundred, everyone of them gathering around Gilligan. He was quite uncomfortable with all the attention.

Suddenly a larger checker person appeared at the edge of the group, actually he appeared to be two checkers stuck together. He held a gnarled twig in one wrinkled hand. The others parted before him as he approached the bewildered sailor. Gilligan suspected that he was their chief. The Chief checker rose both hands and the others instantly fell silent. "Boola!" With that he fell to his knees and bowed to the ground. The others quickly followed suit in a great chorus of: BOOLA!

Gilligan tugged at his collar at a complete loss as to what exactly was going on and why he, of all people, was being worshiped. "You guys must think I'm somebody else. See, my name's Gilligan."

"'Boola' means 'savior'."

Gilligan whipped around at the sound of the new voice. There at the edge of the clearing, sitting atop a large mushroom was a caterpillar. It seemed to be watching the entire proceedings passively. Gilligan stepped over several bowing checker people and hurried over to the thankfully English-speaking creature. "What do they want from me?"

"They think you are their prophesied new red king." The caterpillar pointed at him with all six hands. "The one who will give them victory over their black enemies."

Gilligan shook his head. "But I'm not a king! And I don't want to fight anybody. I just want to get big again and go home."

"I sympathize with your predicament. But I'm afraid they won't take no for an answer. I have been studying their culture for many years and they have been waiting for an opertunity to gain the upper hand over their opponents."

"But why me? I didn't do anything special."

"It's your shirt."

"My shirt?"

"That deep crimson color indicates to them that you are on their side. If you had been unfortunate enough to wear black you would certainly not be alive."

Gilligan gulped. "Who are they fighting?"

"Other checkers."

The first mate frowned a little. "They're fighting each other? That doesn't make any sense."

The caterpillar shook his head as if he agreed. "It's been going on for millennia. The blacks and the reds. They fight, capture one another never seeing how alike they really are. It is quite sad. But they are savages after all."

Gilligan glanced back toward the clearing full of checkers who were beginning to peek up from their prone positions. "Why do they fight?"

"I don't think they really know. It's been going on for so long the memory of the first battle is likely lost in the sands of time."

"That's really too bad." Gilligan said. "But I can't stay and be there king. I've got to get home." His shoulders sagged with a despairing sigh. "But I'll never make it like this." With one sweeping gesture he indicated his whole diminutive self.

The caterpillar gazed at him sympathetically for a long moment. "I may know of something that could help your situation."

Gilligan instantly perked up. "Really?"

"Yes. You see there is a blah blah blah that has blah blah blah, blah blah. So it can blah blah blah.

Gilligan just stared blankly for a moment. "Um, so you can help me?"

"That's what I just said."

"I musta missed it."

"But I'm afraid there is something else I must tend to first." With that the caterpillar started into the foliage. "I will return."

Gilligan started after him, not wanting to be abandoned for the third time by someone who could possibly help him. But he had only taken two steps before five checker people armed with spears moved to block his path. "Listen, I need to go. He can help me get home."

But they were having none of it. They gestured with their weapons that he should return to the center of the clearing.

"You guys don't want me for a king." Gilligan explained desperately. "Really. I'm irresponsible. The Skipper always says so. And I've got no authority. I was President once and I couldn't get anything done."

But his protests went unheard or at least un-understood. They made it quite clear that he was staying whether he wanted to or not.

Hours passed and Gilligan found himself becoming more and more certain that the caterpillar was not coming back. He sat cross-legged on the ground and watched as many of the checker people danced wildly around a huge bonfire, chanting and yelling at the top of their voices. A loud beat that thundered through the air was being pounded out on a hollow twig. They had been going at this for a very long time before the Chief checker rose and called in a loud voice: "Mako!"

The others responded by raising their weapons high and echoing the word: "Mako!"

The Chief motioned for Gilligan to rise. "Mako Boola!"

That aroused an ear splitting scream from every one of them that could only be interpreted as a war cry. With that the Chief shoved a large spear in Gilligan's hand.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

The Chief didn't answer. He simply grabbed Gilligan by the arm and headed down a path through the dense garden. The mob of armed game pieces followed, shouting and waving enthusiastically.

Gilligan had no choice but to go along with the Chief, leading the disorderly procession.

Soon the garden abruptly gave way, all the rich green foliage suddenly disappearing. Before them lay a vast field that was divided into alternating black and red squares. It stretched on as far as he could see.

"What is this place?" He asked, now not expecting to receive an intelligible answer.

"It's the battlefield." Said the voice of the caterpillar.

"You came back!" Gilligan exclaimed in delight, searching for his one friend in this madhouse. "Where are you?"

"Up here."

Gilligan turned his head skyward to see a beautiful purple and blue butterfly flitting over his head. "What happened to you?"

"Metamorphosis."

The Chief checker poked Gilligan in the arm to get his attention then motioned across the field to an asymmetrical smudge of black on the checkered field. At first he couldn't tell what it was but as squinted against the sun he could see that the smudge was slowly moving toward them. He took in a gasp of realization. They were other checkers, black pieces. They carried weapons as well.

The red men behind him began to surge forward, pushing him along with them.

"I don't want to fight!" He shouted frantically over the battle cries, being swept along with the unruly mob.

"Here." The butterfly dropped something down toward the first mate.

Gilligan let the spear fall from his hands as he caught the falling object. It was a large greenish berry that sat in his palm as large as a softball.

"Eat it!"

He instantly did as he was told and took a large bite out of the fruit. Immediately his surroundings began to shrink and everything grew gradually smaller. Soon the garden behind him was just a garden not a frightening jungle and the checkers the size checkers should be. They were crowding around his sneakers, waving their weapons angrily at him. "Sorry, but I've got to get home."

Suddenly they began climbing up his shoes. He took a startled step back. "Hey!" The black checkers quickly joined them, clambering up his laces, onto his socks and trying to work their way up his pant leg. He shook one foot in an attempt to dislodge his attackers. "What's the big idea? Get off!"

The butterfly danced in the air in front of them. "I'm afraid that you have broken one of their most sacred taboos."

Gilligan started backing up, trying to get away but he seemed to be surrounded. "What? What did I do?"

"They believe that anyone over five feet high is a insult to the Gods and must be executed."

"Executed?" Gilligan squeaked. At that he leaped over the red and black crowd that surrounded him and bolted. He ran hard his white sneakers pounding across the checkered battlefield. He stole a glance over his shoulder and took in a terrified gasp. Were before there had only been a few hundred checkers now there were thousands. They covered the ground as far as he could see and despite their size they were _gaining_!

Suddenly before him the world ended. He skidded to a stop at the edge of a huge chasm. Wind rushed up from the depths and he had to hold on to his hat. There was no bottom, the side of the cliff simply disappeared down into impenetrable mist. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned to face the army. Then they were on him, climbing up his legs, his clothes and poking him with their tiny but nonetheless painful weapons. He screamed and swatted at them, trying everything to get them off. His feet stumbled backwards, giving ground until his heel found nothing but air. Arms flailed as he felt himself falling backwards into endless darkness.

_6:58 AM day 4_

There was a loud 'crash' as Gilligan hit something hard. "Get them off! Get them off!" He cried, frantically trying to fend off the attacking army.

"Gilligan wake up! Quit thrashing around or you're going to break something." Strong hands grabbed him by both shoulders and gave him a firm shake that wretched him from his nightmare.

Gilligan's eyes opened to see the Skipper's face not far from his own. He relaxed a bit putting a hand to his chest. "What an awful dream. Skipper, you wouldn't believe…"

But the captain didn't let him finish. "Gilligan, look!" The big man said with nothing short of elation. "You're big again!"

Gilligan frowned. "I know that. The caterpillar gave me that stuff and that's why the checker people were attacking me and…" Gilligan's blue eyes bulged and he leaped to his feet, realization hitting him like a ton of coconuts. He spun in a circle, taking in his surroundings in one quick sweep, the toppled table and chair, the crushed matchbox, the hammocks and finally his best friend who was now grinning from ear to ear at perfectly acceptable eye level. "Skipper!" Gilligan exclaimed, feeling as if his heart would explode with sheer delight. "I'm big again!"

_7:10 AM day 4_

"Five eleven." The Professor smiled as he began to roll up Mary Ann's tape measure. "You're back to normal."

"Yahoooo!" Gilligan twirled his hat over his head before tossing it over his shoulder. He could never remember being so happy or relieved. His future had returned. "You hear that everybody!" With a triumphant leap he threw the door open and burst from the hut. "I'm me again!" He grabbed a startled Mary Ann by both arms and swung her in a jubilant circle finally pulling her into a tight hug. After about half a second his brain registered just who he had his arms around and he quickly released her and stepped back, the color of his cheeks nearly matching his shirt.

She just smiled and closed the distance that he had just put between them, pulling him back. "I'm so glad you're safe."

Before he had a chance to respond to her Mr. Howell grabbed his hand in and shook it vigorously. "Congratulations, Gilligan, it seems that you've received a full refund!"

"We're so happy to have the rest of you back, Dear." Mrs. Howell patted him on the cheek.

"Me and you both!" Gilligan replied with a laugh.

Ginger came up behind him, held him firmly by both shoulders so he couldn't escape and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "That's for pulling through for us."

Gilligan shrugged a bit uncomfortably but managed to give her a polite smile.

"How did this happen, Professor?" The Skipper pushed his hat back to scratch his head as he watched his first mate revel in his regained size. It wasn't that he really cared how his Little Buddy had been restored, he was simply glad it happened. He had been so worried the night before. With all that had happened to Gilligan over the last few days he had dreaded the thought of having to keep his tiny first mate out of trouble for the rest of their exile. Sooner or later someone was bound to step on him. But his miraculous recovery certainly was puzzling. "I mean he just regrew overnight."

The Professor's eyebrows came together thoughtfully. "I'll admit that I am not entirely certain. But there are really only two possibilities. Either the effect of the shrink ray was impermanent and simply wore off or our last test was indeed successful and the results were somehow postponed. As I have stated previously, I was not fully comprehend all the controls functions. Now that I consider it there were very likely controls for the rate of change as well as a delaying function." He paused for a long moment before adding, loud enough that Gilligan could hear over the clamor of his other friends: "You know, you got a little more than your height back."

The others quieted a bit.

Gilligan cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"Your wrist."

The young man's eyes widened as he looked down at his arm which had been nothing but pain the day before. He moved his hand back and forth and experimentally wiggled his fingers. The pain was gone. Even the bruising was now nonexistent. "You know my uncle Walter always said that our family always healed fast. But this is ridiculous!"

"Your bones knitted as they grew." The Professor explained, finally glad that he had some good news to tell his young friend.

Gilligan gave him an odd look. "My bones can knit?" His confused expression quickly morphed into a mischievous grin. "You think they can make me a sweater?"

The Skipper rolled his eyes and Mary Ann giggled.

"Well," Gillian took a deep breath and let it out with a smile, just enjoying in his normal sized surroundings. "I better go down and check the lobster traps. Might as well get it done early, right?"

The Skipper gave his first mate a quizzical frown. "What?" He had never known Gilligan to _volunteer_ to do that particular task before.

Gilligan raised a finger and turned to the millionaire. "And don't worry, Mr. Howell, when I'm done with that I'll boil some water so you can have your Sunday bath."

They all watched in some bewilderment as Gilligan skipped off toward the lagoon.

The Skipper quirked an eyebrow as he turned to the Professor. "You sure he's alright?"

The Professor just laughed.


	20. Epilogue

_ **20. Epilogue**_

_3:35 PM day 8_

Seven castaways sat around the large communal table contentedly finishing up a delicious lunch of perfectly seasoned halibut and diced fruit. Some chatted idly while others attempted to listen to the small radio that stood at the end of the table.

"Now it's time for our daily program 'Oddities in the News'." Said the familiar voice of the radio announcer.

Gilligan who had been talking to Ginger instantly snapped his attention to the radio. "Hey, I love this program!"

Mr. Howell nodded his agreement and tried to shush the others into silence. Being polite didn't work. "Quiet!" He demanded which did indeed produce the desired results.

They all listened attentively as the report continued. "Two men were found drifting in the ocean about fifteen miles off the shore of Honolulu clinging desperately to a boat. What's odd about that, you may ask. The boat was a five-foot long replica of a much larger ship. The tiny ship had a lower deck, a helm and an engine, all perfectly crafted with the minutest detail. When rescued the two men refused to offer any explanation for their predicament or the vessel's size."

"Those must be the two guys that took the shrink ray!" The Skipper exclaimed.

The Professor nodded from his seat at the end of the table. He had deliberately chosen that spot in hopes of decreasing the possibility of something or someone bumping his arm, which had been occurring with unprecedented frequency. Although healing properly the injury was still quite painful if touched and it seemed like every time he turned around he managed to bump it into something or other. He was beginning to feel like Gilligan. "It would seem that they had a bit of trouble with that machine as well."

"Sounds like those two chaps got what they deserved." Mr. Howell said with a decisive nod.

"Crime doesn't pay."

The millionaire raised an eyebrow in the young brunette's direction. "I know where you can get two to one against that."

"She's right." Ginger agreed. "Truth and justice always prevails over the forces of evil and greed."

"Was that from a movie you were in?" Gilligan asked, impressed by the quote.

The movie star shook her head, bouncing her perfectly styled red hair. "From a fortune cookie."

That brought a good laugh from the entire table.

The Skipper looked across the table at his first mate. "Little Buddy, you just about finished with lunch?"

Gilligan dropped his fork onto his plate and put a hand on his stomach. "I'm stuffed. I couldn't eat another bite if you paid me."

"Well, that's good." The Skipper rose from his seat and moved over behind Gilligan and placed both hands on the boy's shoulders. "Because I want you to go fetch some firewood."

"Firewood?" The first mate turned with a small frown. "But I'm not finished listening to the radio."

"Well, I say you are. Now, the girls need it to cook dinner tonight."

Gilligan sagged a little. "Skipper, I've been working all day!" He began to list each task on his fingers. "I checked the lobster traps this morning, brought fresh water up from the stream, collected two buckets of coconuts, cleaned the fish for tonight and that was just before breakfast! I'm bushed."

"You had plenty of time to rest. Now it needs to be done."

"But they won't need that firewood until tonight and it's not even one o'clock yet."

"Gilligan, I gave you and order!"

"But, Skipper…" Gilligan flinched slightly as the Skipper's hat smacked across the back of his head. His look of surprise quickly morphed in to a large smile.

"What are you grinning about?" The Skipper asked testily.

"You know somethin'?"

"What?"

"It's good to be back."

THE END

108


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